


Close call

by Samara Lilly (Amber_Rose)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Body Worship, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Light Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-09-01 13:35:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20258944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amber_Rose/pseuds/Samara%20Lilly
Summary: Aziraphale sits in his book shop, a cup of hot cocoa in one hand, book in the other, when suddenly out of nowhere his demon best friend Crowley appears out of thin air. Aziraphale manages not to let cocoa and book fall to the floor. He puts them down and is on his feet in an instant. He just wants to start chastising the demon for this sudden appearance, when he notices something is terribly, terribly wrong.





	1. The threat

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome - once again to Good Omens. I can't seem to stop myself from writing about these two. I just love them so much. This story once again developed into a much longer one than intended. But I am sure you won't complain. 
> 
> The story is now finished! Yay!
> 
> Leave me a comment, I would love to hear from you!
> 
> UPDATE!!!
> 
> Now with art by Anotherwellkeptsecret!

Aziraphale sits in his book shop, a cup of hot cocoa in one hand, book in the other, when suddenly out of nowhere his demon best friend Crowley appears out of thin air. Aziraphale manages not to let cocoa and book fall to the floor. He puts them down and is on his feet in an instant. He just wants to start chastising the demon for this sudden appearance, when he notices something is terribly, terribly wrong.

Crowley lies on the wooden floor on his right side, curled in on himself, both hands on his chest, groaning in pain. And what’s worse: He is bleeding. Blood has stained his hands and starts to spread on the floor.  
“Crowley!” Aziraphale is lightning quick, kneeling by his side. Fear is gripping him with such ferocity that it’s taking his breath away.  
“What happened?” He asks, one hand already on Crowley’s shoulder, the other taking the glasses off Crowley’s nose.  
“Stabbed…” groans Crowley - nothing more, because he is now clenching his teeth, shuddering violently, and there is so much blood! Aziraphale is at a loss for a second. Crowley is a demon, he should be able to heal himself. He very obviously isn’t. That can only mean one thing: Heaven interfered. 

“Let me see.” Aziraphale turns Crowley onto his back. The demon cries out in pain. His dark shirt, waistcoat and jacket are soaked in blood. Aziraphale doesn’t hesitate. He rips the fabric open and reveals a deep wound: the incision horizontal between two ribs, nearly 4 inches wide, and dark blood wells from it in a constant stream. “Lord…”

“Angel…” Crowley whispers. Aziraphale looks into his face. Crowley’s lips are stained with blood, a small trickle makes its way from the corner of his mouth.  
“Don’t speak. I’ll try to help,” Aziraphale says urgently. He puts his hands on Crowley’s chest, framing the deep wound, not caring about the blood, and concentrates. Nothing happens.  
“Angel…” Crowley says again. He tries to raise a hand to touch Aziraphale’s, but is already too weak.  
“It’s okay…” he rasps.  
“No! No, it’s not! Oh my god… What shall I do…”  
He looks down and Crowley is smiling. Smiling! He is in so much pain, he is dying, but he is smiling - at him!  
“‘m glad I knew you, angel… so glad…” he whispered, then convulses. Aziraphale nearly chokes. His usually strong healing power is obviously not enough. Crowley’s demonic body just absorbs his power and neutralizes it.  
“No - I can’t lose you. I can’t! Crowley!”

Aziraphale takes a deep breath and makes a decision. Crowley lies very still now, struggling to breathe. There is still life in his golden eyes, but he gasps for air.  
“Lord help me…” Aziraphale exclaims. Then he takes his hands off Crowley’s body and concentrates. He has never done this before, but he has no choice. His wings unfold - all six of them. He feels himself expand, feels how the confines of his human body dissolve into nothing. His vision changes drastically, and he feels the strength of his true angelic self stream into him directly from heaven above. 

Crowley stares. He has never seen Aziraphale like this: his human form has completely disappeared. Golden bands are rotating around a brightly shining core. There are dozens of eyes all over the golden bands and on the six white wings, all of them looking at him. And Crowley feels it. It’s a power beyond everything Crowley has ever felt coming from the angel. 

Aziraphale knows that seeing his true form would make every human’s mind snap and hopes and trusts, that Crowley’s doesn’t. He concentrates all his might and power towards the demon. The blood flows a little more slowly, then stops. At this moment Aziraphale isn’t sure if it’s because his healing power works of if it’s already too late and the demon has bled out right here on the floor of his book shop. There so much blood, so much… But then he sees it: the deep wound starts to close. Tissue, nerves and blood vessels attach again. All that’s left after a few moments is still a lot of blood and an angry red scar. 

Crowley feels it. It hurts. It hurts like hell. He’s still barely able to breathe. But he’s healing. Finally he is able to take a deep breath again despite the dull pain still radiating from his chest. He looks up at Aziraphale and sees the true angelic form collapse and shrink, hears a painful groan and then Aziraphale is back in his human body, kneeling next to him, pale as a sheet, trembling, his eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. 

Aziraphale feels himself be dragged back into his human body. He suddenly feels constricted, the human flesh feeling like a terrible weight pressing down on him, suffocating him. He can’t breathe. He wants to lift his hands to his throat, he can’t. He’s staring at Crowley. At least he will die knowing he has saved his love and wants his face to be the last thing he sees. Black dots start to dance in his sight and he barely hears Crowley’s hoarse voice calling him. 

“Aziraphale? Aziraphale! Breathe! You have to breathe!” Crowley gathers the little strength that is left in him and pushes himself up. He reaches for Aziraphale with both hands. They leave wet red prints on Aziraphale’s cream colored coat, while he shakes him.  
“Breathe, angel! Please, you can’t safe my life and then leave me! Breathe, for Satan’s sake!”

In his despair he slaps him in the face, leaving a bloody handprint. And finally Aziraphale takes a deep, shuddering breath, coughs violently and slumps down. Relief floods Crowley, and he watches closely, how his angel takes breath after labored breath. He is still pale, but nods now, and finally Crowley lets go of Aziraphale’s shoulders. 

They both sit still for a moment, until Crowley is the first to find his words: “That was… quite a show. You could make a lot of money with a trick like this.”  
“Oh be quiet. This wasn’t funny. Not at all.”  
“No. But immensely impressive.” Then he adds very seriously: “You saved my life. Thank you.”  
“You’re welcome…”  
Aziraphale groans and looks at the mess they are both in. But he has no strength left to do anything about it. The blood is already starting to coagulate. It looks like they’re in a butcher’s shop. 

“Can you get up?” Aziraphale asks.  
Crowley shrugs. “We’ll see.” Then he turns onto hands and knees and pushes himself up to standing. Nothing’s left of his usual grace. He’s deathly pale, covered in blood, and he looks horrible. He stumbles a little, but manages to stay on his feet. Aziraphale tries to get up, too, and has some difficulty to do so. He feels like an empty balloon, weak and unsteady. Crowley sees him sway and reaches out for him. They put their arms around each other - something they have never done like this - and slowly make their way to Aziraphale’s old sofa, avoiding the puddles of blood soaking into the floor boards. 

“Maybe I should take these off. I’ll soak this old thing in blood…” Crowley mumbles and weakly starts to pull on the sleeves of his jacket.  
“I don’t care. It’s an old thing. I can buy a new one.” Aziraphale slumps down on the sofa.  
“You love this sofa.”  
“More concerned about my coat.” Aziraphale starts to shrug off his beloved coat and inspects the bloody handprints on the shoulders and groans when he smears more of Crowley’s blood from his hands onto the fabric.  
“Sorry ‘bout that. I’d miracle it away, but right now I can’t even snap off my own clothes.” Crowley has managed to take off his jacket and waistcoat. He peels the wet shirt from his body.  
“Urgh… Can I use the bathroom?”  
“Of course…” sighs Aziraphale, avoiding to look at Crowley’s lean body.  
“There is a clean shirt somewhere in there, you can put it on,” he adds. 

Crowley nods and slowly makes his way through the hidden door and to the little bathroom. He switches on the light and groans, when he looks at himself in the mirror over the sink.  
“Oh well… at least you’re still here…”  
He lets his bloody clothes fall to a heap on the floor. He can take care about that later. Now all he wants is to get rid of the blood. He turns on the tap and starts to wash, using the small towel next to the sink as a giant washcloth. It’s only cold water, and he shivers. When he cleans his chest and inspects the wound, he winces. Not very pretty. There are some burn marks around it, and it still stings like hell. The scar is bulging and ugly. But right now there is nothing he could do about it. When he is finally clean, he sighs. He feels terribly tired, his arms seem to weigh a ton. There is a small cabinet in one corner of the bathroom. He opens it, finds it stacked with books (of course) and in the highest shelf, neatly folded, a simple white dress shirt. 

Crowley hesitates for a moment. But Aziraphale has told him he could wear it. So he shakes it out and puts it on. It’s too big for him, but it smells like the angel, and that makes him smile. After he has done up the buttons, he rolls up the sleeves and leaves the bathroom.

Aziraphale is still sitting on the sofa, eyes closed. Crowley stops dead in his tracks. There is still the bloody handprint on his cheek. Crowley goes back to fetch the wet towel. When he sits down next to Aziraphale, the angel looks up.  
“Here. Let me clean you,” Crowley says quietly and gently wipes the blood from Aziraphale’s face, then lifts his hands one after the other and cleans them, too. Aziraphale sits perfectly still, eyes wide, fidgeting nervously. When Crowley is done, they both hesitate, not knowing, what to do. Crowley is fiddling with the wet towel. 

“We have to eat. Get our strength back,” Crowley then says, “Do you have anything apart from coffee, tea, milk and cocoa powder?”  
“I’m afraid not. But I can’t go out now. I’m weak as a kitten…” he admits.  
“Yeah, me too. Delivery service it is, then.”  
“I must have a menu somewhere in my bureau…” Aziraphale gets up with a moan. He walks over to his bureau, then opens some of the drawers until he finds what he is looking for. Crowley drops the bloody, wet towel next to the sofa. He will deal with that later, too. 

“Chinese fine?”, Aziraphale asks.  
“Whatever. Not picky at the moment. Tell them to bring some coke. Real coke. With sugar.”  
“What do you want to eat?”  
“Just order whatever you like.” Crowley sighs. He sinks back against the sofa cushions, while Aziraphale picks up his phone to order some food. He hears him talking, and has to fight against some tears that are threatening to escape his eyes. That was a close call. Damn close… 

“Food will be here soon. Promised them a generous tip,” announces Aziraphale and sits next to Crowley again. He looks at his demon friend. He has never seen him wearing something light. The white dress shirt is too big for him, but it suits him. Nice contrast to his flaming red hair. Oh god… he had been so close to losing him… Aziraphale blinks away some tears. What would he have done without him? 

“So - what happened?” Aziraphale finally asks.  
Crowley snorts, opening his eyes and looking at him. “What do you think happened? The archangel fucking Gabriel happened.”


	2. The archangel fucking Gabriel

“So - what happened?” Aziraphale finally asks.  
Crowley snorts, opening his eyes and looking at him. “What do you think happened? The archangel fucking Gabriel happened.”  
Aziraphale’s eyes widen. “What? How?”  
“He materialized right in front of me. In a dark corner of a parking lot. I wanted to… doesn’t matter anymore. Suddenly he was there, grip of the sword in both hands, sword raised to the perfect height. All he had to do was take one step forward and…” Crowley swallows. The memory is still fresh and horribly painful.  
“Sword? He stabbed you with a sword?” Aziraphale looks horrified.  
“Not just a sword._Your_ sword.”  
“_My_ sword? But how? It should be stored away safely!” 

Crowley suddenly gets angry. “How would I know, hm? It was a sword, and it was on fire! I can still feel it burning my skin!” he shouts.  
“Sorry, sorry…” Aziraphale sighs.  
Crowley runs a hand through his hair. “No, I am sorry. Shouldn’t have snapped at you. Not your fault. But I… I am so furious! With myself! I was careless! Careless and stupid! Had just the presence of mind to transport myself to the only safe place I know…”  
“What if I hadn’t been here…” Aziraphale says, suddenly startled by the thought what would have happened if he had been out for dinner…

“Lucky me you were here.”  
“But… why would Gabriel do such a thing?”  
Crowley snorts. “He’s not exactly our best friend.”  
“Yes. But I thought we had this thing sorted.”  
“Well, obviously he is going for something different now.”  
“But what?”  
They fall silent. Until Aziraphale says: “Tell me again about heaven. Tell me exactly what happened.”

Crowley groans. “We’ve already gone through this, angel.”  
“I know. But I can’t help but ask myself if we are missing something.”  
“Fine… I’ll tell you again.” Although it still hurts him. Because he has been the one to look into Gabriel’s face. He had to witness the disdain and hatred Gabriel had shown. It still makes him sick to know that these malignant feelings had originally been directed at Aziraphale - his best friend, a wonderful, kind and gentle being. The only being that had ever shown kindness and friendship directed at him. The one he is secretly in love with… 

“They brought me up to heaven and tied me to this office chair. It was Gabriel, Sandalphon, Michael and Uriel. Gabriel was the one to do the talking. Like always. Called the kidnapping an extraordinary rendition. Then he announced a new associate. He was delighted by it.” Crowley remembers Gabriel’s face much to well. 

“I’ve seen this new associate once. He said the view up here was nicer than from down there. He immediately lit the hellfire.” Crowley can still feel the heat radiating off the fire column and shivers. 

“Gabriel accused me of the act of treason and that I had averted the final war. I started to talk about the greater good, but he would have nothing of it. Called me sunshine. Told me they had wanted to settle things with the opposition once and for all. Then Uriel untied me and ordered me to get up. I started a last attempt to make them reconsider their decision. But Gabriel was determined to make an example out of traitors. For the sake of heaven.” 

Crowley snorts. “The sake of heaven! I mean come on, that’s ridiculous!” 

Aziraphale says nothing. He knew Gabriel right from the beginning. He knows how the archangel behaves. He can imagine his glee. And his determination to send Aziraphale to his final discorporation. 

But he wasn’t there. He hadn’t heard Gabriel’s last words directed at him: “Shut your stupid mouth and die already.” And Crowley had spared this tiny detail for Aziraphale’s own sake. The fake smile after this contemptuous words is something Crowley will never forget. Deep inside he was shivering with fury and fear. Not just fear. Angst. Angst for his friend. Back in the old days angels had never been like this. Crowley only faintly remembers the others, but he is absolutely sure that Gabriel is the most despicable being he has ever known. And that means something, because Crowley knows all of hell’s dukes and rulers including Satan himself. But now he has to tell Aziraphale these seven words. And they seem to be like acid burning his throat. 

“Angel…” Crowley sighs. Oh this isn’t easy… “There is one detail I didn’t tell…”  
Aziraphale suddenly watches him very closely. “What detail?”  
“I told you Gabriel ordered me to step into the flame. But he said something else to me. He said _Shut your stupid mouth and die already._ And he smiled.” There. The truth is out. Crowley can clearly see the moment the information truely sinks in. The little flicker that ghosts over Aziraphale’s features. Crowley sees him swallow. 

“I understand. Thank you for telling me,” the angel says. He looks at his hands now, seems lost in his thoughts. Crowley thinks of something to say. Nothing comes to mind. All he can do is sit here and let Aziraphale process what he has heard. It takes a moment, but then Aziraphale says: “Oh…” A crease forms between his brows.  
“What?” asks the demon.  
“There was this… this incident. With Uriel, Sandalphon and Michael. Just before the call to weapons came from above.”  
“What incident?” Although Crowley is dead tired he leans forward now. This seems important. 

“They stopped me on the street and threatened me. And they knew about you. That we were in constant contact. Consorting with the enemy, they called it. Uriel even called you my boyfriend!”  
“Your boyfriend?” asks Crowley alarmed in a high pitched voice.  
“She called you my boyfriend in the dark glasses and that you wouldn’t get me special treatment in hell. Crowley, dear, they knew how close we are! It makes perfect sense. Gabriel couldn’t kill me through the hellfire. But he knows how to destroy me. If he takes you away from me. He tried to kill you to break my heart.” Aziraphale looks at Crowley, their gazes lock. 

Crowley tries not to show how much Aziraphale’s words move him. It would have broken his heart to lose Crowley? Really? Does he really think so? But it must be true, because it makes sense, indeed. Heaven had known about their friendship. So surely hell must have, too. It’s a miracle they have been left alone for millennia without a reprimand from their respective sides. Until now…  
“I’m sorry…” Crowley says now. He feels like shit. Aziraphale is in danger because of him. 

“You don’t have to feel sorry. You did nothing wrong. It’s not our fault that we became this close. Things like this happen. And I wouldn’t want to change anything about it. Our side, remember?” Aziraphale tries to lighten the mood with a smile.  
“Our side has gotten us into a lot of trouble already. Maybe we made a mistake…”  
“We can’t take anything back. And I certainly don’t want to.” Aziraphale looks very serious.  
“But -” Crowley starts, but Aziraphale lifts a hand to stop him. 

“No buts, my dear. We won’t discuss any of this. There’s no need.” Then he sighs.  
“God, I need some tea…” says Aziraphale, but feels too exhausted to get up and make some.  
“Yeah, me to…”, admits Crowley. And he rarely drinks tea, he's more of a coffee person.

They share a tired smile.  
“You look like shit, angel,” Crowley than states with a lopsided grin.  
“Well, thank you. I’ve always wanted to hear such endearing words from you.”  
“You’re welcome.”  
“I hope the food will be here soon. I’m starving.”  
“I’m sure it will. I’ll make tea.” And with that Crowley gathers the little strength he has left and gets up to disappear into the tiny kitchen area next to the small bathroom.

He hears the loud knock on the shop’s door, when he has just fished the teabags out of the mugs. He’s immediately alarmed. What, if it’s not the delivery service? As fast as he can (which is not very fast at the moment) he goes back into the book shop, where Aziraphale is unlocking the door. A young man with a big black styrofoam box is waiting to be let in. Aziraphale, aware of all the blood still on the floor, takes the food through a small gap and hands the bags over to Crowley, who joins him at the door. He pays the food and adds a very generous tip, then slams the door shut again. 

They share their meal in silence on Aziraphale’s sofa. When they are finished, they are surrounded by empty boxes. Crowley has emptied a big bottle of coke, while Aziraphale has had the two mugs of tea Crowley had prepared for them. He sighs and pulls a face.  
“Oh I hate eating here. The whole shop will smell of Chinese take-away in the morning,” he sighs.  
“I wish that was our only concern…” Crowley murmurs.  
Aziraphale stretches his arms above his head, his neck cricks.  
“You look horrible, angel. Time for you to get some sleep.”  
“I don’t sleep,” answers Aziraphale.  
Crowley shakes his head. “Don’t give me that shit. You need to recover. Up you get.”  
“And what about you?”

Crowley freezes for a moment. “I - erm… I’ll take a cab. I think.”  
“A cab? You’re not leaving. I could never let you out of my sight now! What if Gabriel shows up again and I’m not with you?” Aziraphale looks honestly affronted and concerned.  
“He wouldn’t dare attack me in my own house.”  
“You can’t know that! You’re staying with me,” the angel states firmly with a determined nod.  
Crowley sighs. He rubs his face with both hands. He is dead tired and could sleep for a decade.  
“Okay. Fine. You win. You have a spare blanket?”  
“Don’t be silly. We can share my bed.” Aziraphale says nothing more. He gets up and tries to ignore the stare from Crowley. He checks if he has locked the shop door (not that it would keep Gabriel from anything) and then reaches out for Crowley.  
“Come on.” 

Crowley blinks once very slowly, but tentatively takes Aziraphale’s hand. The angel pulls him to his feet, but doesn’t let go, until they have left the shop and slowly make their way out the back door and up to Aziraphale’s flat. To unlock the door, he has to let go of Crowley’s hand. The demon follows Aziraphale, taking in his surroundings. He has never been in Aziraphale’s flat. The rooms are small, dimly lit, display cabinets with some precious looking old books are dominating. Aziraphale guides him through to his bedroom. Crowley takes a look around. He doesn’t know what he has expected, but this room certainly suits Aziraphale. 

There is a kingsize bed with light blue tartan bedclothes and a bunch of pillows. On both bedside tables are books piled up in neat stacks. Aziraphale switches on a bedside lamp.  
“I only use the bed to read. But the linens are clean, I promise.”  
“It’s fine. It’s a bed. That’s all that matters.” 

Aziraphale throws some of the pillows to the floor and very unceremoniously starts to undress. Any other night he would put every item of his clothing into the place it belongs to. But tonight he is too exhausted. He just puts everything onto a chair in the corner of his bedroom, until he is only in his boxer shorts and vest. Crowley very pointedly avoids to look at him and pretends to fiddle with the shirt buttons. When he hears Aziraphale slide beneath the duvet, Crowley makes quick work of shirt, shoes, socks and jeans. Should he ask for a t-shirt to wear? Maybe the angel would be much more comfortable if Crowley wasn’t nearly naked. 

“Are you going to stand there for the rest of the night?” asks Aziraphale now. Crowley takes a deep breath and succumbs to his fate. He goes round the bed to the other side. Aziraphale already lifts the duvet for him. A shiver runs down Crowley’s spine, when he lies down next to his angel, but stays close to the edge of the mattress. Aziraphale already reaches for the bedside lamp, and suddenly it’s pitch dark. 

“Do you have enough duvet?” Aziraphale asks.  
“Hmhm… fine.”  
“Do you snore?”  
“Wot?!”  
“Nevermind.”  
“I don’t snore! Never have!”  
“I was just asking. I’ve never slept with someone.”  
If only Aziraphale knew what his innocent words do to Crowley! The demon swallows so hard he fears Aziraphale might hear it. He stays close to the edge of the bed, desperately wishing to be closer to his beloved angel. He lies there, suddenly wide awake again, and listens to Aziraphale’s breathing. 

“Are you comfortable, Crowley?”  
“Why wouldn’t I be?”  
“I can feel it. You’re stressed.”  
“I had a hard day. Got nearly discorporated. Takes it’s toll, I suppose.”  
“You’re shivering. Are you cold?”  
“A little. My snake nature. I’ll get warm eventually.”  
“Sure? You can come closer, if you want.”  
“Nah, ‘m fine…”

Silence again. Until Aziraphale says: “I don’t think I can.”  
“Can what?”  
“Sleep.”  
“Just close your eyes, will you? Sleep will find you at the end.”  
“But…” He sighs.  
“But - what?”  
“Nothing.”

Crowley hears the ticking of an antique clock and starts counting the seconds. His feet are icy cold, and he is curled into himself to keep the little warmth he has from the meal. He’s still shivering, no matter how hard he tries to suppress it. When he has reached 465 seconds, he gives in.

“Angel…”  
“Yes?”  
Crowley turns around. Aziraphale’s face is a light spot in the darkness of his bedroom, and he looks at him. Crowley can see insecurity on his features, but he sees much more, too. Longing. Loneliness. A wish for a litte more - intimacy? Can it be? And Crowley goes all in. Yes, the day has taken it’s toll. He is still hurting, he is cold, he is lonely and he is scared and in desperate need of some comfort. He - a demon!  
“Can I… that is… if you don’t mind…” He tentatively scoots a little closer.  
“Come here, my dear. I told you it’s okay.” 

It takes few seconds to gather up the last courage, but then Crowley glides close. Aziraphale’s warmth pulls him close like a magnet, and his arms are welcoming him. A shiver runs down Crowley’s spine again. They shift around, until they have arranged their limbs and finally settle down. Crowley feels Aziraphale’s warm breath on his face. His legs are more hairy than Crowley’s, and it tickles. But in the best of ways. Aziraphale's arms are around him, the upper one a solid and sturdy weight on his flank. Crowley has arranged his long limbs in a way, that reminds Aziraphale of the demon’s snake nature. He seems to encircle him, but in a very good way. It’s not constricting, not obtrusive. It’s comforting to be held like this. Even more so after this nights events. Crowley’s only wearing his pants, and his skin is smooth and soft to Aziraphale’s touch, but still cold. He warns himself not to start caressing the demon. But he wants to. Oh, how he wants to! But what Crowley needs right now is only warmth and comfort. And sleep. 

Crowley feels Aziraphale sigh, and a small smile curls his lips. This situation certainly was not what Gabriel had tried to accomplish with his attack. On the contrary. And that fills Crowley with much satisfaction. Aziraphale’s warmth already makes him feel better and drowsy. If this is everything he can have, he will gladly take it, cherish the moment and remember it. Maybe he has to thank Gabriel for his attack after all. Crowley sighs, too, and relaxes into Azirapale’s embrace. He finally falls asleep within the minute.


	3. Stripped bare

It’s the morning light that wakes Aziraphale. He never bothers to close the curtains, because he never sleeps. Now he regrets he hasn’t thought about the curtains, because he is still tired and worn out. But he certainly feels better than yesterday. He would try to go back to sleep, but that’s when he notices how things have changed during the night. 

Aziraphale is on his back, one leg spread out. Curled over him and somehow around him is Crowley. His head lies on Aziraphale’s chest, his lean body slotted in between Aziraphale’s thighs, arms slung around him. One of Aziraphale’s arms is over Crowley’s lower back. Crowley’s red hair is tickling Aziraphale as is his breath ghosting over his skin where it’s not covered by the vest. He is still fast asleep. Aziraphale can’t help but smile. This feels so amazing… Never would he have hoped to have this. Just this. Being this close. 

Aziraphale’s thoughts wander back to many, many days they have spend together. From the early distrust they had worked their way to a never addressed deep friendship. The only time Crowley had mentioned it was in that pub after Aziraphale had been discorporated. He had told him he had lost hist best friend. Aziraphale is no idiot. He knows perfectly well that there is only one being Crowley has a connection to, and that is him. And he is glad about it. More than that. Because he loves him. It’s easy to admit it to himself. Discovering his feelings after the events in 1941 was a little disturbing. But everything made sense then. Aziraphale has spent the last 78 years disguising his true feelings for the demon. He is tired of it now. The only thing that still keeps him from admitting it is his fear to lose Crowley. He can sense that Crowley feels much more for him than he should. He’s an angel, after all. He feels it, if someone is loving. But will the demon ever be able to admit it? Aziraphale has decided long ago that he won’t do anything about it. If Crowley doesn’t act on it, he won’t, too. 

But right now he just enjoys the feeling to have Crowley so incredibly close. Aziraphale lifts his other hand to gently lie it on Crowley’s bare shoulder. His skin is warm now, smooth and soft. Aziraphale can’t resist to let his hands slowly move over Crowley’s back. He feels a change in structure and smiles, when he realizes what he is feeling under his fingertips. He is fascinated by the feel of it. With his eyes closed and a smile on his face he keeps on touching the love of his life. 

Crowley feels a gentle caress on the skin of his back where a few dark scales circle the places where his wings are hidden. He slowly starts to wake, while a shiver runs through his body. Oh that feels good… He nuzzles closer to the warmth that is surrounding him, the familiar smell he loves so much. Soft arms very gently pull him just a little closer. But then he realizes what is in fact happening, and he is awake within the second, his eyes open wide. Aziraphale feels it in the tensing of Crowley’s muscles, the changing breathing pattern. What is Aziraphale doing? He can’t be caressing him? Him? That must be a dream, but… it feels amazingly real.

“Don’t. Let me hold you a little longer…” Aziraphale whispers, “Please.”  
Crowley hesitates. Being so close to his only love feels wonderful. He could drown in this feeling. And he is still weak, isn’t he? Can’t he allow himself to be comforted by his saviour just for a little while? He smiles when he thinks about last night. About how Aziraphale transformed into his true form. To save his life. Of course Crowley was a little… distracted by trying not to die. But - man, Aziraphale had been amazing. Just for him. And if he wants to hold him… well, why not? There is no one here to question it. It’s only them. 

So Crowley closes his eyes again and decides to just take what Aziraphale is offering. He shifts his weight a little.  
“‘m I not too heavy?” he asks, his voice still a bit hoarse.  
“No. Not at all.” There is so much affection in Aziraphale’s voice, he can’t be imagining this, can he? Aziraphale’s hands are still tracing patterns over Crowley’s back. If he could get goose bumps, he would now. Instead the dark scales start to spread further over his back. Aziraphale smiles when he feels it.  
“Is this alright?”  
“Hm… don’t ssstop…” There is a slight hiss in Crowley’s voice. 

They stay like this for a while, until Aziraphale voices what’s moving him since he woke up.  
“I could have lost you last night…”  
“You didn’t. I’m still here.”  
“And I’m so glad about that… I don’t know what I would do without you.”  
“Don’t think about that. Nothing’s gonna separate us. We won’t let that happen.”  
Aziraphale feels his heart beat a little faster. Who would have thought Crowley would say something like that to him?  
“So you are saying…”  
“You’re stuck with me. If you want that.”  
Crowley lifts his head now and looks at Aziraphale. He is surprised that he has spoken these words out loud. But he would never take them back, because they are true. And because he feels the burning need to finally confess at least some his feelings. 

The angel stops caressing Crowley’s back. They look at each other. For the first time they are stripped bare of all their layers of disguise. It’s as if they are looking at each other for the first time. They can both feel it. Aziraphale studies Crowley’s eyes. The golden irises are always mesmerizing. He knows Crowley can’t show them in public. Sometimes he takes off his sunglasses when they are alone in the bookshop. Aziraphale wishes he would do it more often. 

“I want to. Be with you, I mean.”  
“Good.” Crowley swallows nervously. He looks at Aziraphale, at a stray curl that is plastered against his forehead. He desperately wants to touch it. He doesn’t dare. How could he? He’s a demon. But he wants. Oh, how he wants…  
“Crowley…”  
“Yes, angel?”  
“You know it, don’t you?”  
Crowley’s heart starts to race. “Know - what?”  
Aziraphale closes his eyes for a second. How shall he put this into words? It’s so much, so, so much! But he doesn’t want to be a coward, so he opens his eyes again. If he’s going to do this, it will change everything. His whole world. No matter the outcome, he has to say it now. He wants to.  
“That I… I’ve fallen, too. For you.”

Crowley’s mouth is dry. He is unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to say anything. He just stares. Aziraphale sees it - how desperately Crowley tries to process what’s going on. And so he waits. He has waited for centuries, he can wait a few minutes longer. 

Finally Crowley takes a deep breath and seems to come back to life. Aziraphale feels how he moves one arm and retreats it from where it’s trapped unter Aziraphale’s back. His hand is warm and firm, wandering over his chest, up over his shoulder and his cheek and further up to brush this one stray curl from his forehead, because this curl is driving Crowley mad. As are his feelings, the turmoil deep inside him, the hope and disbelief that this is finally happening. But there have been some events lately that have changed everything for them. They fooled heaven and hell. They avoided the apocalypse. Aziraphale has saved Crowley’s life just hours ago no matter the consequences. 

“Angel… Are you sure about this?”  
“I’ll be damned if I wait a minute longer. But it’s not that bad, once you get used to it, is it? That’s what you said.”  
“I don’t want you to be damned.” Crowley’s fingertips very gently move from Aziraphale’s forehead to his cheek, and he rests his palm there. The touch makes them both shiver.  
“Too late, I suppose… Are you going to kiss me now or not?”  
Crowley can’t help but chuckle, a smile is spreading over his thin lips. “Thought you’d never ask…”  
Then, like the snake he is, he slowly glides up Aziraphale’s warm body until they are nose to nose. Just like some weeks ago. I’m a demon, I’m not nice - the words ring in Aziraphale’s ears, but he closes his eyes, as Crowley slowly lowers his head now and gently presses his lips against Aziraphale’s. 

He doesn’t know what he has expected. Maybe heavenly choirs? Maybe the earth opening to swallow him and transport him straight down to hell? Maybe sparks flying? Maybe stars exploding? Nothing of it happens. But he feels. He feels Crowley’s warm lips, he feels his breath, his palm on his cheek, his lean body pressed against his. And he feels Crowley’s love. The love of an immortal being. Love so old and so deep that it’s like an undying flame. It’s hot, but not burning him. It’s strong, but not crushing him. It’s magical. It’s like nothing he has ever felt. Not even the love of God ever felt like this. Because this love is solemnly directed at him and him alone. 

Aziraphale’s hands move on their own. They move over Crowley’s back and up into his hair. He isn’t aware that he is moaning and opening his lips to drink Crowley’s breath, to allow him entrance. But once he feels his hot tongue touching his own, he knows he is lost and he is fallen. But in the best of ways. Nothing ever felt so right and so incredibly good. 

Crowley can’t believe this is really happening. He is kissing Aziraphale, and Aziraphale is responding and pulling him close and touching him and he is so, so warm, so soft, so perfect. Crowley is asking himself for a second if he is still dreaming. But he is not. He feels Aziraphale’s full lips on his own. One could call these lips sinful, but they are an angels, damn it, and it’s not only his lips. It’s his tongue, it’s his breath, it’s the moving of his chest, it’s the beating of his heart against his ribs and this heart beats for him. For him! All for him, and there is no hesitation, no fear. It’s nothing but love directed at him, and Crowley fears he could drown in it. But he won’t. He finally has this. He will never be without it. Never in his immortal life. 

They are both breathless, faces flushed, sweating, when they finally break the kiss. Crowley looks at Aziraphale. His lips are kiss swollen and dark pink, and he is smiling, his eyes sparkling. His soft hands are still everywhere: in his hair, on his back, on his shoulders, on the small of his back. Crowley leans into the touch. It feels too nice.  
“Oh my darling…”, whispers Aziraphale, and Crowley’s cheeks heaten even more. Never before has someone called him darling. He would be embarrassed, but it’s Aziraphale. And that’s just how Aziraphale is. He wouldn’t want him any other way. 

There is a little smile on Crowley’s lips when he asks: “Was that alright?”  
“More than that. It was terrific. Is it always like that?”  
“Dunno. I’ve never kissed like this.”  
“You’ve never kissed?”  
“Not like this. Why, haven’t you?”  
Aziraphale’s gaze flickers, but he doesn’t want to start their new relationship with lies. “Never. I’m sorry, I must be a horrible disappointment.”  
“What - no! No, you’re not!” Crowley finds it so endearing that Aziraphale has never kissed anyone before! “Don’t you ever say something like that! You could never disappoint me.”  
“But… You have done this before. I have not. I have no experience in this matter.”  
“It’s not about experience. I…” Crowley doesn’t want to be a coward. He wants Aziraphale to know.  
“I’ve kissed before, yes. But it was never like this. Apart from that… There wasn't much more.”  
“It was not?” Aziraphale shifts his weight. Crowley get’s the hint. He slides off Aziraphale, and they settle on their sides, looking at each other. Aziraphale has taken Crowley’s hand and holds it against his chest. His thumb caresses the back of Crowley’s hand. He looks at him, curious. Time to confess. 

Crowley sighs. “I never wanted to do this with someone other than you. It has always been you. From the very beginning.”  
“Oh Crowley…” There is moisture in Aziraphale’s eyes, more than there should be. He blinks it away and then asks: “But… do you want to… do more?” His question is nothing more than a whisper, and Crowley feels Aziraphale’s hand, that is still holding his own, trembling a little.  
“I…” His voice is hoarse, he knows he looks ridiculous being this embarrassed. Because he’s blushing furiously. “You mean…”  
“Crowley, I know what intercourse is and I know what humans do. You can’t live among them for 6.000 years and not know, not even when you’re an angel.”  
“Oh please, don’t call it intercourse!” Crowley pulls a face. He has absolutely no idea how to talk to Aziraphale about sex!  
Aziraphale chuckles. “You don’t expect me to talk about flowers and bees, darling, hm?”  
“It’s… it’s just…”  
“Too soon?”  
Crowley nods, then hides his face in the pillow. The scent of Aziraphale is overwhelming, and he could suffocate himself in this glorious scent. He feels a shift in the mattress, Aziraphale moving and he looks up again. Aziraphale has come a little closer, propped up on one elbow. He let’s go of Crowley’s hand now and instead runs it through his hair again, touches the little black snake tattoo beneath Crowley’s ear. 

“We have waited for millennia. No need to rush things. Besides…” The angels sighs.  
“I know I’m not a very prime example of a man.” He shrugs. “If one can call me that. I’m an angel. But even for an angel… I’m not the perfect specimen…”  
“What’s your point?” asks Crowley. His angel makes no sense.  
“My point is… well I know I have to lose some weight. Gabriel told me that much. And he’s right. But -”  
“Stop. Stop that. You mustn’t believe a single thing he has said to you. There is nothing wrong with you. You are perfect just like you are.” Crowley sits upright now, the duvet sliding off his body. He looks alarmed.  
“Gabriel again - this damn litte shit. I want you to forget about him. Nothing he has ever said should bother you. Not anymore. You’re with me now. And I see nothing you should be ashamed of. You hear me?” 

Crowley’s words touch Aziraphale more than he likes to admit. He has never had a problem with the way he looks. But being with Crowley now… Crowley is so beautiful, so elegant, graceful, sexy and everything Aziraphale isn’t. How can Crowley find anything about him perfect?  
“So it’s no problem for you?”  
“Don’t make up problems where there are none.” Crowley’s voice gets gentler now. “As I just said - there is nothing to be ashamed of, and nothing I don’t like about how you look.”  
He slowly pulls the duvet away to reveal more of Aziraphale’s chest. He is still wearing the vest and the boxer shorts. Crowley works up some courage. He straddles Aziraphale’s hips and sinks down onto his warm thighs. Aziraphale’s hands settle on Crowley’s lean hips, clad only in a pair of tight black briefs. They feel silky to his touch. Crowley moves his hands over Aziraphale’s chest and belly.  
“I told you you are perfect. And I mean it. A perfect fit for me. Look at me. I’ve always been a little too skinny.”  
“Nonsense. I like how you look.”  
Crowley smiles a cheeky smile. “You do, eh? Hm…” 

He wriggles his hips a little, before he bends down to kiss Aziraphale again. Both their hands explore what is bared to each others touch, and it feels wonderful. Crowley feels blood rushing towards an area of his body he never used for this purpose. He’s getting hot and gasps, when his fingertips tease Aziraphale’s nipples through the fabric of his vest. They immediately pebble and harden. Just because of such a minor touch. Aziraphale arches into it, their kiss gets a little more needy. Crowley takes his lips off Aziraphale’s and pants into his mouth: “Can you take this blasted thing off?”  
Aziraphale giggles. “With pleasure…” He lifts his chest and lets Crowley pull the vest up and over his head. He tosses it aside and then admires what he hasn’t seen in a very long time. Roman bath culture has vanished long ago. They had visited some of them on different occasions, and so they have already seen each other naked. But not like this. Crowley looks down at his own groin, his black pants tented, and discovers Aziraphale is in the same state. Aziraphale looks down, too, and he smiles. 

“That has never happened before. It’s a good sign, is it?” he asks.  
“I suppose so.”  
Aziraphale’s hands move over Crowley’s thighs and up to his upper body. “This is really fascinating. You’re not getting goose bumps, but your scales are showing.”  
“Same like my eyes. Happens when I’m quite excited.”  
“I can see you’re excited,” smiles the angel. He traces the smooth scales with his fingertips. It’s a light scatter along Crowley’s spine and flanks. Like freckles. It’s lovely. 

“Let me make you feel it…” Crowley breathes. He shifts his weight and moves his hips, and their erections brush against each other. They both gasp. Crowley runs his hands through the coarse, blond hair on Aziraphale’s chest. How good it feels to be allowed to do this! Aziraphale’s hands are on Crowleys arse now. Aziraphale squeezes Crowley’s buttocks, and Crowley presses their groins closer together.  
“Lord…” sighs Aziraphale and does it again with the same reaction. Crowley claims his mouth again, now with undisguised lust. It suddenly feels different now, as his tongue glides into Aziraphale’s mouth. Aziraphale can add another thing to the list of signs for excitement: eyes, scales - and now the slightly forked tongue. It only spurs on his own arousal. If he had known it would feel like this he would have tried it out much earlier in his life. 

Crowley has somehow managed to press his whole body against Aziraphale, and they move together. Aziraphale’s fingertips trace the seam of Crowley’s briefs. But he doesn’t dare to do more. And it’s fine. For both of them. They just enjoy being this close, to experience what it does to them. But they both are still too worn out to do more. After a few more minutes they lie still again, Crowley still draped over Aziraphale. They only share little, happy kisses now and smile like madmen.


	4. What do we do about Gabriel now?

"How about some breakfast? I’m starving. Again,” admits Aziraphale finally.   
“Sounds good. What about we make breakfast together and after that I take care of the mess in your shop?” Crowley suggests.   
“You don’t have to. Clean the shop, I mean.”  
“No big deal. I think I can manage after breakfast.”

Aziraphale lends Crowley a pair of pyjama bottoms and some warm socks for breakfast. He wears the white dress shirt again, and Aziraphale is sure he has never seen Crowley looking more beautiful than this morning. Aziraphale puts on a comfortable pair of pyjamas. He doesn’t feel the need to dress properly already. They enter the kitchen, and Aziraphale smiles at Crowley.   
“Do you want something special?”  
“What ever you like is fine as long as there is coffee.”  
“Alright then.” Aziraphale rubs his hands together. They have never cooked together. It sounds delightful. 

Aziraphale miracles up all the ingredients they need for a proper English breakfast and is glad he is able to perform miracles again. His kitchen is fully equipped, and Crowley switches the stove on and goes searching for a pan. He can’t believe how easy it is, how perfectly they work together. If a stranger would see them now, he would say they were married for decades. Whenever their eyes meet, they can’t help but smile at each other and share gentle little kisses when ever they can. This is such a new and exciting feeling for both of them. 

Finally all the cooked ingredients are stacked on the kitchen table, cutlery and crockery laid out to Aziraphale’s liking. Aziraphale has poured them both coffee and turns back now to walk past Crowley to his chair. Crowley takes advantage of the situation. He reaches out for Aziraphale as fast as a striking snake, grabs his wrist and pulls him onto his lap. Aziraphale lets out a surprised yelp, but starts laughing altogether, when he settles on the strong thighs of his love.   
“Don’t do that! You’re giving me a heart attack!”  
“Won’t be fatal, I assure you,” Crowley growls. He puts a hand to the nape of Aziraphale’s neck and gently pulls him into a kiss. Now that he is allowed to finally touch he can’t seem to stop himself. He is already addicted to the feeling of the warm, soft angelic body against his own. He will never tire of this, he thinks. They kiss for a minute or so, until Aziraphale retreats from him.   
“The eggs are getting cold.”

Crowley gets cold, too, when Aziraphale leaves his lap to sit on his chair opposite. But he shouldn’t complain. They have time. So much time! They both tuck into their breakfast with gusto. They are both hungry again. Last night has really left them exhausted.

“What do we do about Gabriel now?” asks Crowley over breakfast. He’s half through with his second cup of coffee and slowly starts to feel normal again. He has had much more breakfast than ever before and starts to worry if it was too much. He likes eggs, but five of them in a full English may have been a bit too ambitious, even for him. And when he eats, he can eat a hell of a lot being a snake and all. 

“I was thinking… I could start an inquiry. Ask for the records if anyone has summoned the sword. It will be a good lot of questions and paperwork for Gabriel.”  
“Or you could pull your trick again,” Crowley suggests, a very little grin on his face, before he takes a big swig of his coffee.   
“My trick?” Aziraphale shoves the last piece of his buttered toast into his mouth, and Crowley desperately wants to lick a little smudge of melted butter from the corner of Aziraphale’s mouth.   
“Yeah. The trick you pulled with me last night. Your true form.”

Aziraphale chuckles nervously. He swallows and dabs at his mouth with a napkin, much to Crowley’s disappointment. “Why would I want to do that? And besides - I can’t. He’s my boss.”  
“He’s not your boss. Not unless you choose him to be your boss. You’re a principality, right?”  
Aziraphale nods. He reaches for his coffee and takes a sip.   
“And Gabriel is just an archangel. I still know the hierarchy. You’re part of the second order. Archangels are only part of the third order. Therefore: Gabriel is not your boss, and you are much more powerful.”  
“But he’s in charge. Has always been.”  
“And that’s bloody stupid!” Crowley puts his coffee cup on the table and leans forward. 

“Listen, angel. We both know that he will never stop if we don’t act now.”  
“But…” Aziraphale sighs. Just three minutes ago he has felt great, but now he starts to worry.   
“No buts anymore! If we stand together, we can make everything change.” Crowley’s voice becomes softer now. He extends his hand over the breakfast table, and Aziraphale doesn’t hesitate to take it. His soft warm hand feels amazing to the touch, and Crowley thinks what a soft fool he has become over the centuries - the stupid demon, who never forgot heaven and fell in love with an angel… what a laughing stock…

“He will try again. If not with your sword, then he will find something else. You have so much power, if you just want to. I thought you… would want us to be together.” He knows he is begging now, but he doesn’t care.   
“Yes, I want that. More than you can imagine. But… What if it doesn’t work? What if I lost you? I can’t lose you. I wouldn’t survive if I lost you.”   
“You won’t lose me. No force of heaven or hell could ever separate us if we don’t let them. I…” Crowley wants to say it. So desperately. But the words don’t come. Instead, he stands and walk around the table, never letting go of Aziraphale’s hand. When he’s standing right in front of him, he gets down on one knee and looks up at Aziraphale. Why can’t he just say the truth? Why can’t he just say what he’s feeling?

“You’re my angel. And… I… Aziraphale…” Crowley struggles. He wants to say so much, but it’s so hard. So fucking hard… How can it be so hard? He closes his eyes, tries to be brave. That’s when he feels Aziraphale’s other hand on his cheek.   
“Look at me, my dear.”  
Crowley’s eyes fly open again, he tentatively leans into the gentle touch.   
“I know what you want to say. You can say it, whenever you’re ready,” he says with a smile.   
“But I want to. And I should! You deserve it!”   
“Darling - it’s fine. We are both here. We are on our side. We know what we are to each other. There is no pressure.”  
Crowley feels Aziraphale’s fingertips dig into his scalp, and it feels so good… Crowley covers Aziraphale’s hand with his own. He is so grateful that the angel understands. That they are on the same page here. 

“And now get up, before I think you’re going to propose to me.” Aziraphale chuckles and pulls Crowley to his feet and onto his lap. Crowley puts both arms around Aziraphale’s neck, and they kiss for a little eternity. Until he finally retreats. He caresses Aziraphale’s cheek with the backs of his fingers.   
“I should clean up the mess in your shop. I promised you.”  
“Then I’ll do the washing up. And after that we can talk some more.”  
Crowley nods. He gives Aziraphale a last kiss, before he stands and turns towards the door of Aziraphale’s flat to go down into the bookshop.

He can smell his own blood, when he opens the door. It makes him actually gag a little, because the memory hits him again. He could have died… if not for Aziraphale’s help. He shakes his head to get rid of the thought and calm himself. Nonetheless he suppresses a shiver, when he rounds the corner and sees the puddles of his own blood still on the floorboards. He can’t help but touch the place on his chest where the scar is. He could miracle it away. But decides not to for the moment. The scar reminds him of Aziraphale and their new bond. 

Sighing he steps a little closer. He swallows. It was a really close call. He bites his bottom lip and concentrates. Hopefully his power is back to normal. He snaps his fingers, and the blood on the floor disappears into thin air. He turns around, eyes the sofa and snaps a second time. It’s only a few stains that vanish. Aziraphale’s coat is still lying over the armrest. Crowley picks it up and blows over the stains to make them disappear. He spots his sunglasses on the floor, tossed into a corner, and picks them up. They are still intact. But instead of putting them on, he folds them and tucks them into the breast pocket of his shirt. 

Next is the bathroom where his soiled clothes still lie in a bundle on the floor. The dried blood has made the fabric hard, and Crowley decides he wants an entirely new set. He remembers a plastic bag he has seen last night in the cabinet and fetches it to shove his dirty clothes into it. He will burn them back at his flat. Put the chimney to some good use at last. A final snap miracles a new set of the same clothes into existence. Strangely enough he is sad he will have to leave the white dress shirt and the tartan pj bottoms. They feel good. 

But it will feel even better to dress in his usual style. It’s like his own kind of modern armour. But first: shower. He trots back upstairs, clothes and bag in his hands. Aziraphale is already clean and dressed, doing the washing up, just like he had said. Crowley smiles. Aziraphale could easily miracle everything clean, but in some things he likes to go native. He likes that about the angel.   
“May I use your shower?” Crowley asks.   
“Be my guest. I already laid out some towels for you. And I found some samples of shampoo and shower gel for you to use.”

Just like Crowley knows Aziraphale likes to clean his dishes by hand or prefers to buy his clothes instead of wishing them into existence, Aziraphale knows how much Crowley likes to bathe and shower. He has on a few occasions gifted him with bath bombs or expensive, hand made soap bars he has found in tiny shops. Maybe this is, too, part of Crowley’s snake nature. Warm water is always a source of enjoyment and relaxation. 

Crowley steps close. He stands on tip toes to press a gentle kiss to the nape of Aziraphale’s neck. “Thank you, angel.”  
Aziraphale turns around and kisses him on the mouth. “Enjoy your shower. Don’t take too long.”

Aziraphale’s bathroom is small with only a shower he never uses. But the pipes seem to function, when Crowley turns on the warm water. He undresses and neatly folds the clothes Aziraphale has given him, placing his glasses on top of them. He shakes his head, when he pulls the shower curtain open. So typical for his angel: a blue sky with fluffy clouds. He sighs, when he steps beneath the spray of warm water and closes his eyes. Oh, that feels good. He lets the warm water wash away most of the last tension left in his muscles before reaching for the small sachet of shampoo. He smiles, when he starts to wash his hair. The scent is not entirely unpleasant. Nothing he would prefer, of course. It’s too flowery and sweet for his liking and very un-demonic. But it’s fine for today. The shower gel smells much better, a bit of citrus and sandalwood. After he is clean, he stays in the shower for two more minutes and just enjoys the feel of it. 

Aziraphale is finished with the washing up and the kitchen clean and tidy again, when Crowley emerges from the bathroom. His red hair is still wet and just swiped from his face. He is dressed like he always is, and Aziraphale is secretly sad. He had liked the softer Crowley in a white dress shirt and tartan pj bottom. But he is still not wearing his sunglasses, and that makes Aziraphale happy again. 

“Feeling better?”  
“Much. Left your clothes in the bathroom.”  
“I liked them on you,” confesses Aziraphale, his cheeks turning pink.  
“Not really my style.” Crowley scrunches his nose.   
“Your style changed so much over the last centuries… Maybe you give it a try some time. You are much braver than me when it comes to fashion…”  
Crowley doesn’t know what to say, so he prefers to say nothing about that particular topic. Just when he wants to get back to their earlier conversation about Gabriel, there is a knock on the door of the bookshop. They exchange a look. 

“Do your customers usually knock?”  
“No. And it’s still too early.”   
“Maybe a delivery?”  
“I don’t wait for anything. You stay here. I’ll go get that.”  
Aziraphale tries to sound and look more confident than he feels. When he goes past Crowley, Crowley stops him with a hand on his arm.   
“Be careful, will you?”  
Aziraphale smiles at him. “Of course, darling.”  
Crowley lets go off him and stays in the open door of the flat, listening. His heart is hammering against his ribs. Maybe it’s nothing. But if not… well he has no clue what to do then.


	5. The principality

Aziraphale descends the stairs to his shop. He is fairly sure he won’t like what’s about to happen now. Crowley has locked the backdoor of the shop after cleaning up, and Aziraphale unlocks it again. He can see vague outlines in front of the shop’s door, and before he can reach the door someone knocks again. Aziraphale goes to unlock the shop door and steps back, when his visitors enter the shop and close the door behind them. He is speechlessly staring at them. 

Standing in front of him are two angels who have visited his shop before, and they look very smug and disgustingly self confident. Sandalphon is grinning widely, the other is just standing there, hands in the pockets of his coat. 

“Gabriel,” Aziraphale says and feels a sudden rage flood his system. A rage so sharp and overwhelming, that he himself is taken aback. He is disgusted by the angelic being that has the guts to appear in his bookshop. How dare he come here - and look so smug? Aziraphale swallows and balls his hands into fists, but then takes a deep breath and opens his hands again. He knows why Gabriel is here. And he is glad that Crowley is still upstairs in his flat. 

“Aziraphale - what a pleasure to see you well and healthy. We got a report about a certain… incident from yesterday. You know what I’m talking about. A great summoning of heavenly power,” Gabriel smiles, and Aziraphale feels sick. Oh he knows very well what Gabriel is talking about. The pompous bastard is in his usual suit and coat and smiles one of his disgusting false smiles. 

“You didn’t think that drawing so much power wouldn’t go unnoticed?”, smirks Sandalphon.  
“I had other things on my mind when it happened. And I’m not going to explain myself. I am way beyond explaining anything to you. You can leave all the same. I have nothing to talk to you about.” Aziraphale tries to keep his tone as neutral as possible.  
Gabriel takes a step forward. “What were you doing, hm? Working such a big miracle… I’m afraid there will be a lot of paperwork for you, sunshine.”

“Don’t call him that,” Crowley hisses. He appears behind Aziraphale, and Aziraphale is torn. Torn between the relief that he has not to face Gabriel and Sandalphon alone and fear for his beloved. Why did Crowley come down here, anyway? He had told him to stay upstairs!

“You don’t call him anything, you understand me?” Crowley steps up to them until he is standing right next to Aziraphale. The angel has to admit he secretly enjoys the shocked expression on Gabriel’s face.  
“Crowley - what a surprise!” Gabriel forces himself to smile, and suddenly it’s more than clear to him what miracle has taken place yesterday.  
“It shouldn’t come as a surprise to you. What did you think who he would turn to for help, hm?” Aziraphale asks. Crowley’s presence gives him much more confidence.  
“And there will be no paperwork to do. I don’t have to report to you about anything.” Aziraphale steels himself and thinks about yesterday. How powerful he has felt in his true form. And about the fact that Crowley is right: Gabriel is just an archangel. Aziraphale is a principality. There is nothing he has to justify himself for. 

He smirks, when he instead says: “In fact it is you who should report about something. A flaming sword, maybe, that’s gone missing?”  
The smile on Gabriel’s face falters. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  
“Oh don’t give me that, Gabriel!” Aziraphale feels a sudden anger. He straightens himself and takes one small step forward.  
“You know damn well what I’m talking about! Where is it?”  
“What?” Gabriel doesn’t move, but his posture changes. He feels uneasy, and it’s not hard to miss.  
“The sword. _My_ sword. You didn’t think I would allow you to keep it, did you? Or what do you want to do with it? Try to kill me? Again? Well, good luck with that. Go on. Try. I assure you, you won’t succeed.” 

Crowley is staring at the angel. What happened to Aziraphale? The blond angel is suddenly radiating confidence, determination and a power like never before. Crowley’s heart beats faster. If he hadn’t already fallen in love thousands of years ago, he certainly would have now.  
The expression on Gabriel’s face changes. He knows he’s been caught, no need to deny anything.  
“We should have discorporated you long ago. How long have you been fraternizing with the opposition? You are disgusting! Being friends with a demon? You’re a shame for us all! And you avoided the war that was _supposed_ to happen! It was the great plan!”  
“You don’t know anything about Her plans!” Aziraphale retorts loudly, “And I did not fraternize! What I did had nothing to do with any great plans, no harm was ever done! I never did anything wrong!”  
“Just tell yourself that! I would do this world a great favor if this… this thing” Gabriel gestures into the direction where Crowley is standing “would just disappear forever! He has tainted you long enough now!”  
“He doesn’t taint me. And don’t call my boyfriend a thing!”

Crowley gasps. Sandalphon makes a scandalized sound. Gabriel pulls a face. They all stare at Aziraphale.  
“If you ever get near him again, Gabriel, I swear I’m gonna discorporate you. You know I can. And now give - me - my - sword!”  
Gabriel swallows. What has happened to the formerly so obedient angel? This celestial being in front of him doesn’t resemble him anymore.  
“Do I have to order you?” Aziraphale asks, his voice now low and friendly, but there is danger lurking just underneath the calm facade. Gabriel considers again for a moment, until he finally lowers his gaze. He turns to Sandalphon. 

Sandalphon looks pale, all his usual confidence wiped from his face. A nod from Gabriel into his direction, and Sandalphon reaches into his own cream colored coat. He pulls out the sword. It’s not flaming now. In fact it looks like an ancient, not very well kempt weapon no one would bat an eye on. Aziraphale extends his right hand, waiting. Sandalphon hesitates for a moment, but then steps forward. He puts it, grip first, into Aziraphale’s outstretched hand. Aziraphale closes his finger around it, but doesn’t lower the sword. A clear message.

Sandalphon steps back immediately.  
“Leave. Both of you. If I ever see one of your faces near me or my boyfriend ever again, you’re going to regret it. I mean it,” Aziraphale says and glares at them both. “Go. Now.”  
Gabriel and Sandalphon look at each other, and it’s the latter who nods towards the shop’s doors, an urgent expression on his face. Gabriel still hesitates. But he sees the look on Aziraphale’s face, he feels his rage and his power and finally gives in. Both archangels step back. 

“You are a lost one, Aziraphale. You’re not one of us anymore,” says Gabriel, wanting to have the last word.  
“That’s not your decision to make. Besides - I am on my own side now.” Aziraphale feels Crowley’s hand brush his - a tiny gesture, that means the world to him. He and Crowley watch Gabriel and Sandalphon disappear in a ray of bright white light, leaving the faint smell of ozone in the bookshop. 

Aziraphale lets out a shuddering breath, his shoulders sink down, and he grabs Crowley’s hand. He is shaking and weak in the knees.  
“Whoa… come, sit.” Crowley gently pulls Aziraphale towards the sofa and helps him sit. The sword falls to the flow with a metallic clatter. Crowley pulls Aziraphale close, and the angel wraps both arms around his lean body.  
“Oh Lord, did that really happen? Did I really do that?” he whispers, his mouth very close to Crowley’s ear.  
“You were amazing. Didn’t I tell you you could do that?” Crowley smiles. He’s proud and relieved and happy.  
“I didn’t know what to do until I did it.”  
“And you did the right thing.” Crowley’s hands move over Aziraphale’s back, and he presses his cheek against Aziraphale’s. The angel is still shaking, his hands fisting Crowley’s jacket. He pulls him even closer and tries desperately not to cry. 

“Sh… It’s fine. You’re fine. Don’t worry. They can’t do anything. There is only one being who can do something, and She won’t interfere. She’d have done if She wanted to. You’re safe. _We_ are safe.”  
“Do you really think so?”  
“Yes.” Crowley’s hands move up now. He retreats from Aziraphale’s embrace and cups his face in both hands, so they can look at each other. Aziraphale is grateful Crowley is still not wearing his dark glasses. 

“You called me your boyfriend,” Crowley smiles. One of his thumbs gently moves over Aziraphale’s cheek.  
“Well, you are, aren’t you?” Aziraphale studies Crowley’s face. He sees how happy this little statement makes him and has to smile, too.  
“I never thought I’d be anybody’s boyfriend. Ever.”  
“Everybody has thought us to be boyfriends for centuries, darling.”  
“We never were before tonight.”  
“I hope you’re fine with it?”  
“Don’t be daft, angel. Of course I am. More than fine.” Crowley leans forward. He closes his eyes and kisses him. Aziraphale sighs. How has he managed to live without this for six millennia? It feels so right to share this. It feels so good to finally be able to do what they longed to do for so, so long. Crowley’s hands are very gentle, as he caresses Aziraphale’s face, his neck, plays with his blond curls. He gently pulls Aziraphale on top of him while he sinks down on his back on the old sofa. Aziraphale follows gladly. Their mouths move together, their hands explore each other once again, and they both feel much more free now. 

Aziraphale is peppering Crowley’s face and neck with kisses and little nips, and Crowley arches up into the touch.  
“Shouldn’t we take this back upstairs?”, he says and gasps, when Aziraphale finds an especially sensitive spot just beneath his ear.  
“I have to open the bookshop”, Aziraphale smiles.  
“Oh bollocks. You open your shop on such an irregular basis, it’s frankly ridiculous,” Crowley chuckles. Aziraphale looks up.  
“Do I hear criticism about my work policy, hm?”  
“I wouldn’t dare to criticize you.”  
“You better not. Put that mouth of yours to good use, will you, and kiss me.”  
“With pleasure, my angel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's finally some smut to come in the next chapter!


	6. Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 kudos! Yay! Thank you for reading and thank you for every comment. You make my day!

Aziraphale, Crowley realizes, can be quite bossy. Once they have made it back upstairs Crowley finds himself with his back against a wall on the way to the bedroom, and Aziraphale is kissing him so passionately that he fears his knees will give out on him. Once again scales start to appear on Crowley’s skin. How can an angel this inexperienced be this tempting? But here they are, and Aziraphale presses his crotch against Crowley’s, and Crowley moans into his mouth. He decides it’s time to take the lead. He pushes himself from the wall and starts to move things to the bedroom in earnest. He’s excited and a little anxious. They have never done anything like this. What if it goes wrong? What if one of them makes a mistake? What if one of them doesn’t like it? What in fact should they do?

The thoughts tumble around in Crowley’s head, while Aziraphale is working on the buttons of Crowley’s waistcoat. Where has the jacket gone? He can’t remember. Because Aziraphale’s plush lips are driving him mad, his soft hands pull on the fabric of his shirt now, and he hits the mattress with his calves and loses his balance. A little shove from Aziraphale sends him flying onto the mattress.

“What the hell are you doing to me?” Crowley asks breathlessly. He looks up and has trouble breathing at all. Aziraphale is undoing his bowtie, a happy smile on his face.   
“I’m curious, that’s all. Don’t you want to know how it feels?”  
“Erm… yeah, I do. But… I don’t want you to do anything that you don’t want. Too fast, remember?”  
“Does it look like I don’t want this?” Aziraphale throws the bowtie away and starts to unbutton his waistcoat.   
“And we waisted enough time already.” The waistcoat follows the bowtie.   
“Are you absolutely sure about all of this? I don’t know if I can stop once we started this in earnest.”  
“Oh I really do hope you don’t stop.”  
Aziraphale pulls the shirt tails out of his trousers, his fingers make quick work of the buttons. 

It’s only when Aziraphale is wearing nothing more than his trousers and opens his belt, Crowley realizes that he is still fully dressed. He doesn’t hesitate and snaps his fingers. Aziraphale chuckles.  
“Finally…” A few last movements, Crowley stares at him, and Aziraphale is naked. He smiles a shy smile, still a bit unsure about his appearance. But Crowley extends a hand, and Aziraphale takes it. He lets himself be pulled in the bed and on top of Crowley. 

“Don’t you ever think I don’t like what I see. You’re beautiful, angel,” Crowley murmurs into Aziraphale’s ear.   
“But I must be far too heavy for you…”  
“On the contrary,” Crowley sighs. Because it feels incredible to have Aziraphale this close, to feel his weight, his warmth, his presence. He feels save and somehow surrounded by him. Maybe it’s his celestial aura. But what ever it is, he quite likes it. 

Aziraphale’s lips are so very gentle and sweet when they claim his mouth now. Crowley feels his scales starting to spread more and more. He hooks one calf over Aziraphale’s leg and pulls him as close as he can. Aziraphale moans and presses his growing erection against Crowley’s hip.   
“Angel…” Crowley gasps. He feels himself immediately harden.   
“That feels divine, my darling…” murmurs Aziraphale.   
Crowley shouldn’t agree, because _divine_ is nothing a demon should feel. But it’s just what comes to his mind. It _does_ feel divine and he will never get enough of this. 

Aziraphale trails little kisses from Crowley’s mouth down his throat. His lips linger a little longer over his pulse point, and he smiles when he feels it racing. He sucks the delicate skin until he leaves a little reddish mark and Crowley groans. The demon’s hands are in Aziraphale’s hair, he doesn’t really know what to do, doesn’t want to make a mistake. He would never forgive himself if he did something Aziraphale wasn’t comfortable with. 

Aziraphale’s lips suddenly touching one of nipples make him gasp and arch into the sensation. This makes Aziraphale take his lips from his nipple but brings their hard cocks closer together. Crowley shivers, moves his hips a little and then - oh!   
“Crowley!” Aziraphale cries out. The demon smiles.   
“Feels good?” he asks.   
“More than good…” Aziraphale moans. 

Crowley crushes their mouths together. His hands roam over Aziraphale’s body. He loves every inch of it. His skin is warm and flushed, and in Crowley’s opinion they fit perfectly together. Moisture from both their cocks makes the glide of skin on skin slippery. They grind against each other, gasping and moaning from this new sensation of being so close. Crowley would love to look down, would love to see their erections rubbing against each other. But how could he let go of his angel at this moment? His hands cup Aziraphale’s buttocks and squeeze gently, he pulls Aziraphale even closer. 

“Oh Crowley… Crowley… you feel… you feel so good!”  
“Angel…” is all Crowley manages to whisper. Aziraphale’s hips against his rut faster now. His face is buried in the crook of Crowley’s neck, his arms are around his torso and he seems to hold on for dear life. 

Aziraphale couldn’t tell what he feels at this moment. He is overwhelmed with a pleasure he has never felt before. He had indulged in some carnal desires in his time on earth, but never in sexual activities. Therefore this experience is so new and strange to him that it is hard for him to cope with all the sensations he is currently feeling. Having Crowley in his arms would have been more than enough to make him happier than ever before. But feeling him like this: skin on skin, their breaths mingling, their hearts racing together… it’s so much! Every fibre inside his body seems to be on fire, seems to be taught like the string of a violin. There is this tight feeling down in his pelvis, spreading from his cock that is so deliciously trapped between their bodies, from his balls, that are drawing up to his body - what a strange feeling! He feels a chill running up his spine that makes even his scalp tingle. 

“Crowley…” he pants, and suddenly there is the rustle of feathers and a breeze, as his wings spread out on their own volition. Crowley sees the beautiful wings, he feels Aziraphale shudder in his arms, and then the angel throws his head back, eyes wide, and he whimpers and bucks his hips, and warm wetness is spreading between their bodies. It comes as a surprise, really, but Crowley’s heart is overflowing with love and adoration and a little pride, because he did this to Aziraphale. It was his body that made him come apart in his arms. Aziraphale is still trembling, he’s panting and giving a little whimper with each exhale. Crowley gently cards his fingers through Aziraphale’s curls, pulls him close so he can kiss his forehead, his temple, his cheek, murmuring softly into each kiss. 

“It’s alright. I’ve got you, angel. You’re fine. My angel. My Zira… My everything…” He knows he sounds like a lovesick, ridiculous human. But he can’t help it. And he doesn’t care (at least not much), because it’s only them. Nobody else on earth or beyond will ever hear such words from his mouth. He kisses Aziraphale on the lips. “That was amazing. You are wonderful.”  
Aziraphale slowly comes back to his senses. His breathing is ragged. Of course he knows what has just happened, but he is overwhelmed by it. 

“You’re still trembling”, Crowley says and with a smile brushes the sweaty curls from Aziraphale’s forehead. His voice is full of affection.   
“It’s not that I can control it right now… An orgasm seems to have many effects I never took into account.”  
“Hm…” makes Crowley and wriggles a bit, feeling the sticky wetness between them spread even further. That makes Aziraphale aware that Crowley is still hard, his cock still trapped between their bodies.   
“Oh…” he says, then smiles and kisses Crowley deeply and passionately. Crowley sighs into the kiss. He experimentally thrusts his hips, and the mess between them makes the slide… pleasant. Very pleasant, indeed. His own cock twitches and leaks a little more. His forked tongue plays around Aziraphale’s and makes the angel moan in response. 

Finally their lips part. Aziraphale smiles at him. “Oh my dear… Let me make you feel good, too.”  
“Sounds… sounds good to me,” Crowley rasps. But when he tries to press himself further into Aziraphale’s warm body, the angel pulls back. He folds his wings close to his body, and they disappear again.   
“Angel, what -”   
“Shh, my darling. Let me take care of you.”  
Crowley swallows hard. With a shake of his hand Aziraphale miracles away the wetness between them and starts to pepper Crowley’s body with kisses. 

The demon suddenly hisses and flinches, when Aziraphale’s lips touch the scar on his chest.  
“I’m sorry!” Aziraphale looks up guiltily. “Did I hurt you?”  
“No. No, you didn’t. It’s just… it’s still sensitive.”  
“I didn’t want to startle you.” Aziraphale puts a reassuring hand on Crowley’s chest.   
“It’s fine. Don’t be sorry.”  
“Couldn’t you miracle the scar away?”  
“I could. But don’t wanna right now.”   
“You don’t? Why?”  
Crowley bites his lip. “It’s… a little like a medal. It brought us together. Sssilly, I know…” he admits.   
Aziraphale looks at him like he is the sun, moon and stars all at once. “My love…” 

He bends over him again and kisses around the red scar, while his hand wanders slowly downwards. Crowley shudders in anticipation and yelps, when Aziraphale wraps his warm, soft hand for the first time around his straining erection.   
“Alright?” asks the angel, his lips close to Crowley’s ear.   
“Yesss…. keep going…”

Just a few minutes later Crowley writhes and clutches the sheets with both hands. Aziraphale’s hands feel amazing. But even more amazing are the words he is whispering into his ear. It’s an endless string of loving, endearing, encouraging words, full of adoration and affection.  
“Oh look at you, my darling… so sensitive… so beautiful…”   
Aziraphale’s right hand is around Crowley’s hard shaft, moving up and down in a steady rhythm. Pearls of clear precome ease the movement. Crowley lies nestled against Aziraphale’s chest, and Aziraphale’s left hand traces gentle patterns over Crowleys skin wherever he can reach. 

When Aziraphale lets his thumb slide over the tip of Crowley’s cock, Crowley exclaims a hoarse “Oh!” and his hips buck.  
“Ah, you do like this, my dearly beloved?”   
“Ngk…”  
“More? Shall I move my hand faster?” Aziraphale speeds the movement of his right hand, making sure to gather the moisture leaking from Crowley’s cock and brush his glans on every second or third upstroke. Crowley moans wantonly, not caring anymore about how a demon should behave in a situation like this. He doesn’t give a flying fuck about anything except Aziraphale’s wondrous hands on him. His hips start to move on their own, thrusting up into Aziraphale’s hand. Aziraphale smiles.   
“Or shall I move slower?” He slows down, taking his time to stroke Crowley’s cock.   
“Ssssiraphale…” pants Crowley. One of his hands scrabbles towards Aziraphale, clutches his hip now.  
“My sweet darling. You look amazing. Does that feel good?”  
Crowley makes an incoherent noise. Aziraphale presses a kiss into Crowley’s mussed up red hair. 

Crowley is completely at Aziraphale’s mercy. The angel is amazing. What he is doing to Crowley right now feels unbelievably good. Every muscle inside his body is tense, his heart is racing and he feels like he could burst at every moment. But Aziraphale’s hand on his cock moves excruciatingly slowly now, coaxing more precome from it. Aziraphale’s soft words only fuel his pleasure.   
“If you could see yourself like I see you now. My beautiful sweetheart. Doing so well for me…”  
“Please…” moans Crowley. He is close to really begging now.   
“Please what, my love? Tell me what you need. I’ll give it to you, what ever it is.”  
“I… just… more!”  
“More? Faster?” Aziraphale moves his hand faster again. And Crowley is lost. He cries out. 

“Angel!” All the tension uncoils all of sudden. The pleasure is reaching it’s peak, and Crowley nearly passes out from the sheer power of it. His hand that is clutching Aziraphale’s hip grips it so hard, that it’s nearly painful and leaves red imprint marks. Pearly white come spurts over Crowley’s quivering belly and soils Aziraphale’s hand. Aziraphale is enraptured by the sight of his lover coming apart under his hands. It’s only when Crowley hisses and reaches for his hand to still his movements on his spent cock, he realizes it’s over. He bends down and kisses Crowley’s lips. The demon is still panting, he feels weak and a little lost. His whole body is tingling and one of his legs is shaking, and he can’t seem to stop it. What has happened? Has Aziraphale accidentally broken him? But that’s ridiculous. Crowley wraps both arms around Aziraphale’s neck now, pulls him as close as he can and doesn’t care about his own mess. 

Aziraphale’s heart is full of affection. Crowley clings to him, is kissing him deeply and is radiating contentment. He sighs and combs one of his hands through Aziraphale’s blond curls.   
“Oh angel, that was…” He is searching for the right expression, doesn’t find it and instead kisses him again, trying to show him how good it was without any words. Aziraphale understands. They both sigh and settle into their embrace. Crowley is slowly dozing off, while Aziraphale keeps on stroking his back and just enjoys that this first time seems to have been a great success after all.


	7. Downstairs

Crowley awakes from his post orgasmic light slumber. He isn’t sure what has awoken him, but something is odd. A fly is buzzing in the bedroom, tumbling against the closed window. Aziraphale is not in bed with him, but that shouldn’t worry him as the angel very rarely sleeps. Maybe he has opened the shop and is trying to avoid selling one of his books. Crowley sighs and stretches his long limbs. He should get up and see where Aziraphale is. He smiles thinking about their last activities and how wonderful everything has felt. 

He throws away the duvet and climbs out of bed, waving away another fly with his hand. He freezes mid-motion, sniffs, then turns around. Oh no… A snap of his fingers gets him dressed, and he hurries out of the flat and down the stairs. He bursts into the bookshop to discover Lord Beelzebub walking along the shelves and studying Aziraphale’s antique books. The angel is nowhere to be seen.

“What the fuck are you doing here? I thought we had sorted things out. You’re going to leave me alone, didn’t I make myself clear?” Crowley all but shouts.  
Lord Beelzebub turns around to face him and smiles. “I got a little message from above. About an incident. Even we down in the basement could feel something happening. How are you feeling, Crowley?”  
“Never been better. And you can go back to where you’ve come from,” he snarls, baring his teeth.  
“Oh but I just arrived. Maybe I want to buy one of these books. Some interesting and rare issues among them.”  
“Don’t touch any of the books,” Crowley warns. Where is Aziraphale? What have they done to him? 

“What is that smell?”  
Crowley whirls around. Leaning against another shelf is Duke Hastur and looks disgusted. Crowley retreats a few steps, trying to keep an eye on both of them.  
“Do you smell that, too? He reeks of angel.” Hastur makes a fake gagging noise. “Did you really fuck him?”  
Crowley is close to losing is temper and struggles to keep calm. Until he doesn’t know what has happened to Aziraphale he shouldn’t do anything. He wanted to keep his angel safe. And he seems to have failed him.  
“You shut up, Hastur! You have no right to be here! Go back to hell! Both of you!” 

“Is that a way to treat old friends?”  
Crowley holds his breath. From behind of the book shelves a woman steps into view. She is tall, lean, athletic. Her dark hair falls long, straight and shiny over her shoulders. She is beautiful in a very special way. High cheekbones dominate her face together with her very dark eyes and distract the view from her thin lips. She is dressed very casually: jeans, a tight black shirt, a shabby woolen cardigan and black boots. But she practically radiates something sexual - and very dark.

“Lilith. To what do I owe the honors?” Crowley asks, his voice hoarse. His first instinct is to lower his head to Satan’s companion but manages not to. He keeps his chin up and tries to radiate confidence.  
“Hello, Crawley. Long time no see. Or may I call you Anthony?”  
Crowley shivers - he hates the name Crawley, everybody knows that. Lilith’s voice is low and melodic and touches something deep inside Crowley he doesn’t want to be touched. Especially not by Lilith.  
“Nah, Crowley will be fine, thanks.” He tries to act as cool as possible, knowing fully well, that Lilith can look right through him.  
“I just wanted to have a look at you. See, how you’re doing. Remind you where you and your loyalty still belong.” Lilith comes closer now, walks over to Aziraphale’s bureau and sits down in his office chair, crossing her long legs. Her long dark nails look like claws and lightly scratch over the armrests of Aziraphale’s chair. The sound is immediately grating on Crowley’s nerves. 

“I belong here on earth and nowhere else. You can as well leave and take your pets with you.” He very pointedly looks at Beelzebub who crosses his arms over his chest and looks bored.  
“Tsk… Don’t be rude, Crawley, dearest,” Lilith purrs.  
Crowley feels bile rise in his throat. Aziraphale has called him that, and it makes him sick to hear this petname from Lilith.  
“And you most certainly don’t belong here. This place belongs to an angel. These imbeciles,” here Lilith looks over to Beelzebub and Hastur, “may have been impressed by your performance with the holy water. I certainly am not. Nor is your master.” Beelzebub and Hastur look a little scandalized, but they would never dare to speak up against Lilith.

Lilith, as not many people know, was the first woman God created to be a companion for Adam. Made out of the same earth as Adam, from the first moment of her existence she refused to accept a role below him. Adam, as one can imagine, was not so pleased with this attitude. So Lilith decided to leave. And never came back. She was known as a tempter and man-eater, someone who haunted you in your nightmares - and sometimes as a demon who killed and ate children. It was true that Lilith was the first succubus, but she had never in her life eaten children. Even as a creature of dark desires one has to have certain standards. 

It had been Lilith who had found Lucifer after his fall. It had taken them some decades to get used to each other. Lilith was the perfect companion to Lucifer, now known as Satan. They had gathered all the fallen angels, now known as demons, and created a community of their own, now known as hell. Lilith was powerful. Every demon was afraid of her, because she was known to be efficient, determined and very, very evil. Crowley had despised her from the first moment on. 

And now the mistress of hell is sitting in Aziraphale’s office chair, and Crowley still has no clue where his angel is. Lilith smiles a smile with just a hint of teeth. Crowley is more than a little concerned now. Lilith hadn’t been present during his trial. But you could be sure that all the nine realms of hell have heard about Crowley and what he had done. But they still don’t seem to know that it had in fact been Aziraphale who had taken this very special bath.  
“He is no longer my master,” growls Crowley.  
“Oh isn’t he? Sorry to disappoint you, Crawley, but he still is and always will be your master. And there is nothing you can do about this fact.”  
“In fact I can. Tell your master I’m through with him.”

Lilith laughs a laugh that makes Crowley shiver. “If you really want him to know that, you can tell him yourself, if you like.”  
“No thank you. I’m sure you’ll give him my regards.” Crowley still tries to sound bored and cool. And even if it’s just to reassure himself that everything will be fine. Where the fuck is Aziraphale?

“You can’t go back, you know. Heaven will never take a fallen one back,” Lilith says now.  
“As if I don’t know that. And no, I don’t want to go back to heaven! Just like I said, I like it here.”  
“I’m sure that has much to do with your angel boyfriend, hm?”  
“He is not my boyfriend.” It hurts so much to say this! But Crowley is still determined to protect Aziraphale. If he has to lie about their relationship, so be it.  
“You fucked him.”  
“I tempted him. I’m still a demon. That’s what demons do.” Crowley tries to smile. It is a very pathetic smile. But it’s all he can manage at the moment. 

At the same moment a key is turned in the lock and the book shop’s door is opened. Crowley feels his insides go numb in shock, when a smiling Aziraphale appears in the door, but immediately freezes.  
“Angel!” he shouts. But it’s too late. Lord Beelzebub, who had been standing close to the entrance, moves quick as a fly. He may not be tall or look very threatening. But he still is a Lord of hell, and in the blink of an eye he has managed to produce a black dagger and presses it against Aziraphale’s throat. Aziraphale gasps. He looks at Crowley with wide eyes. In his left hand is a plain white paper bag. 

“Were you getting a little snack for your next round of sins?” Lord Beelzebub smirks.  
“What’s going on? Crowley?” asks Aziraphale. Crowley’s mind in racing. What shall he do? He has no choice but to try to fool Lilith and her entourage to keep them from killing his love. And if he has to break Aziraphale’s heart (and his own), then he will. But he can at least try to get rid of the three bastards without doing so.  
“A friendly visit from hell. They were just about to leave. Weren’t you, Mylady Lilith?” Crowley smiles, hoping to make it as charming as he can and finally addressing her as the mistress of hell that she is. 

“Such a sudden change of mind? Do you really think I am that stupid?” Lilith stands up now and slowly goes over to Aziraphale and Lord Beelzebub. Crowley’s blood turns to ice in his veins. Oh no… He makes a step forward, too, and his boot touches something lying on the floor. It’s Azirapahle’s sword, that’s still lying near the sofa. But it’s no use for him. It nearly killed him. He can’t even dare to touch it. He can’t be sure of it, but he fears it could burn him to ashes if he touched it.

Lilith in the meantime stops directly in front of Aziraphale.  
“Oh look at this little lamb…” She bends forward and sniffs.  
“Ooh…” She pulls a face. “You were right, Hastur. They did fuck.”  
Aziraphale’s cheeks turn pink. His hand still clutches the bag. He feels the blade of the black dagger pressed against his skin. It feels like ice, and it leaves an angry red mark, though it’s not piercing his skin. He knows what damage a hellish dagger can cause him. Taking his real form like yesterday is out of the question. He wouldn’t be quick enough. And then there was still Crowley. What if they did something to him?

Crowley’s voice sounds amused, but Aziraphale can hear the stress in it, when he snarls: “Yeah, okay, I did. Why not? Besides - temptation is something you never forget. Last time I had that much fun was during the french revolution. And tempt him I surly did on many occasion. Fucking him was just the last step. And what can I say? He enjoyed it. Such a dirty little angel.”

A shiver runs down Aziraphale’s spine. These words hurt. But only for a moment. Because he can something neither Lord Beelzebub nor Duke Hastur or Lilith can: he can feel Crowley’s love for him. And therefore he knows that Crowley is only trying to protect him. So if this is Crowley’s plan, he will play along. Even if he has no idea what he’s playing at. 

“W-what do you mean, Crowley?” Aziraphale asks, adding a little tremor to his voice.  
“Oh come on, angel. You know it’s not personal, don’t you?” Crowley says as nonchalantly as he can manage. But will Lilith buy it? If he is honest with himself: he wouldn’t believe a single word if their roles were reversed… 

“But… you… you said…” Aziraphale stammers. Tears are starting to make his eyes shine.  
“I know what I said.” Crowley laughs. “Look, Mylady Lilith, isn’t he pathetic? You must admit that he is funny. I had such a good laugh about all of this.”  
A tear escapes Aziraphale’s eye now and Crowley feels as if the flaming sword has once again torn into his ribcage and is now piercing his heart.  
“That’s what I am to you? A joke? And I thought…” Aziraphale’s voice trembles. He tries to manage another tear, but doesn’t succeed. He hopes this will be enough to convince them he is hurt.  
“You thought what? That I was your friend? Your boyfriend even?” Crowley spits, and he thinks he could break this very moment. He can never make this good again… 

“You can stop this charade, Crawley!” Lilith bellows now, “Do you really think you can fool us? We could kill this stupid angel any second!”  
“It would be my pleasure, Mylady Lilith,” Lord Beelzebub hisses. His breath ghosting over Aziraphale’s face smells foul. Lilith laughs. She turns away from Aziraphale now and makes a few steps back to Crowley.  
“You betrayed hell, demon Crawley. It would be only fair to let you pay a price. Or maybe we should let _you_ kill this little lamb.”

They are trapped. Aziraphale doesn’t dare to make a move because he doesn’t want Crowley to get hurt. And Crowley knows all to well that Lilith will kill Aziraphale if he doesn’t act now. This is the moment Crowley takes his decision. He doesn’t hesitate anymore. He has no choice. As quick as he can he bends down to reach for the sword lying right next to him on the floor and can only hope he doesn’t discorporate the second he touches it. But it is a mighty weapon, and he has to try. 

Aziraphale cries out. “No!” 

When Crowley curls his fingers around the grip, he immediately gasps. The grip seems to be scalding. It’s immediately burning his skin, and Crowley tries his best to hide the pain that shoots up his arm. But he doesn’t let go. Instead he lifts the blade, points it at Lilith and hisses towards Beelzebub: “Let him go.”  
The smell of burnt skin and flesh is noticeable. Aziraphale’s heart is racing. The sword nearly killed Crowley yesterday! How can he even manage to hold it? But it hurts him. Crowley’s arm is shaking, but he doesn’t let go. 

Lilith sees it, too.  
“Oh Crawley, don’t hurt yourself. Your hand must kill you,” she says, false sympathy dripping from her lips. But Crowley sees it in her eyes: a flicker of disbelief. And fear.  
“Let him go!” Crowley yells now. The pain in his hand is almost as unbearable as the pain of being stabbed in the chest. But it’s only a hand. He can manage. Even if he loses it. He won’t lose Aziraphale. He can’t let anything happen to him.  
“NOW!” he shouts from the top of his lungs.  
“Crowley…”, whispers Aziraphale. Crowley looks at him for a second, and the same instant the sword is on fire.  
“Boss…” hisses Beelzebub, his grip on Aziraphale’s throat loosens. 

Aziraphale stares. That can’t be. Crowley is a demon. He shouldn’t be able to wield the sword at all, left alone to light it’s fire. But he obviously is. His expression is grim, his eyes are completely golden now.  
“That’s impossible…” says Lilith. Her eyes have gone all black, and her face is not so beautiful anymore. Her lips are pulled back, baring her sharp teeth, disgust and actual fear now clearly visible on her face. Because she can actually feel the heat radiating from the sword that is pointed in her direction. And Crowley takes a step towards her now.  
“Nothing’s impossible,” snarls Crowley, “And now leave! And never come back! Ever!”  
Lilith glares at him for a moment longer. But then she snaps her fingers, and all three disappear, leaving only the stink of sulphur. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale lets the bag drop and runs to Crowley’s side. Crowley let’s go off the sword. The flames die, and Crowley falls to his knees, bending over and clutching his hand to his chest. He is shivering and gasping for breath. The pain is unbelievable.  
“Crowley… Oh god, are you alright? Let me see!” Aziraphale kneels down, touches Crowley’s shoulder and tries to look into his face. Crowley takes a shuddering breath, then groans in pain. There are tears spilling from his eyes. Aziraphale’s heart aches. 

“Darling, my dearest, please let me try to help.”  
He reaches for Crowley’s forearm, but doesn’t dare to touch it.  
“Please,” he whispers, tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. To see Crowley in so much pain - again! - breaks his heart. And knowing he suffers only because of him! Crowley slowly lifts his head, looking at him. Aziraphale nods at him, and tentatively Crowley lets go off his own hand and allows Aziraphale to look at it. He is trembling all over.  
“Oh Crowley…” 

Crowley’s palm looks horrible. The sword has burnt his skin so deep, the raw flesh is showing. It looks terrifying. Crowley is shaking, he’s clenching his teeth.  
“Can you heal it yourself?”, Aziraphale asks quietly. He carefully cradles Crowley’s hand in his. Crowley manages to shrug his other shoulder. Looking at his burnt flesh makes him feel a little sick. Nevertheless he concentrates and tries at least to get rid of the searing pain. It get’s better, but it doesn’t stop. Aziraphale can see how Crowley tries and fails. The holy weapon has severely injured him. He activates his own powers. This injury isn’t life threatening like the one from last night. He hopes he will be able to help this time. 

Crowley groans again, his breath is laboured. It takes some time, but in the end the wound starts to heal. When Aziraphale is done, Crowley’s palm is still flaming red, and he flinches, when Aziraphale touches the new skin. His whole arm is aching, but it’s at least bearable now. 

“Are you still in pain?”, he asks concerned.  
“A little. And very sensitive. But I will live. Oh angel…” Crowley takes a deep breath and flings his uninjured arm around Aziraphale, presses his face to the crook of his neck. Aziraphale gently hugs him back.  
“And I didn’t mean it. You know that, don’t you? I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want to tempt you. You must believe me, it was real!”  
“I know. I know you said, what you said, because you wanted to protect me.”  
“I’m so sorry, angel. I really am.”  
“Shh… nothing more of that. I know better. I do.”

They kneel on the floor for a few moments longer. Aziraphale strokes Crowley’s back and finally presses a kiss into his hair.  
“Can you get up, darling?”  
Crowley nods, and they get up.  
“Let’s go upstairs. You should rest.” He guides Crowley through the book shop and snaps his fingers to get rid of the stink of sulphur and lock up the shop. Back in Aziraphale’s living room, Crowley sinks down onto the sofa. He rests his head against the backrest and closes his eyes. 

Aziraphale goes to make some tea for them. But when he is alone in the kitchen he sinks down onto one of his chairs and tries to calm himself and process what has happened in the last day. Is it really only 24 hours since Crowley has been attacked by Gabriel? It feels like a little eternity. And if anyone on this world knows about eternity, it’s surely him and Crowley. 

Aziraphale puts his hands on his face and sighs. He feels horrible. Crowley has once again been hurt because of him. They had both thought they would be left alone after their body switch. They had been proved wrong. God didn’t seem to care. But their respective sides very obviously still did. And what now? Would it go on like this? Would they always have to be afraid? Or was it over now? Maybe it had been a terrible decision after all to come out to Crowley and confess his feelings towards him. Maybe they would have been better off if they had stayed away from each other… 

“Angel?”  
Aziraphale lowers his hands and turns. Crowley is standing in the open kitchen door, looking pale and worn out. Again. Aziraphale’s heart aches, and he feels tears filling his eyes.  
“It was not your fault,” Crowley says. His eyes are red rimmed.  
“Wasn’t it?” Aziraphale replies. “You nearly got killed because of me. You got hurt again today because of me. How can it not be my fault? Nothing of this would have happened if we hadn’t fraternized ages ago. I should have said no to you centuries ago! Then any of this would have happened!”  
“That’s not true and you know it.”  
“Of course it is!” Aziraphale feels the tears spilling over now. He makes no attempt to hide them. 

Crowley feels his heart aching. He hates to see his angel like this. He comes closer now.  
“No. Listen to me. Even if they tore my arm out, I would give it willingly if only I knew you were safe and I could still be with you.”  
Aziraphale shakes his head.  
“Don’t say that. Please, Crowley, don’t say that. I don’t want you to get hurt. Or killed. If it means I have to leave you, I will do it. Even if it breaks my heart.” He sniffles now, more tears are flowing down his cheeks. Crowley gets down on his knees in front the chair, he reaches up with his left hand, putting it on Aziraphale’s cheek. 

“Aziraphale! Angel, stop! We are together. We are alive. And nobody is gonna separate us! Never! Not that I finally have you! Do you understand? I want to be with you. No matter what. Even if Satan himself comes back up here, I wouldn’t leave your side. Because I love you. I love you so much, I can’t say how much!” He starts to wipe the tears from Aziraphale’s face with both hands now, even if his right hand still hurts. 

Aziraphale outright starts to sob now. He pulls Crowley into his arms, and Crowley has to wrap his arms around him, too. He tries to soothe him, presses kisses onto his skin where he can reach it and realizes just then, that he has finally said it. He has said the three magic words, and he smiles through his own tears. 

It takes Aziraphale a little while until he has himself back under control. When his crying subsides, he slowly backs away, but doesn’t shy away from showing his tear stained face.  
“I’m sorry…” he whispers and tries to smile. Crowley looks at him adoringly.  
“You don’t have to be. As long as you stop talking about leaving me. It would be to no avail anyway. If they want to continue threatening us, they will. But we will be better fighting them together. Besides… I think they have all understood now. They stand no chance against us.”  
“Are you sure?”  
Crowley shrugs and tries to smile. “No, but we can’t worry about them for the rest of our lives.”

“The rest of our lives…” Aziraphale takes Crowley’s hands, lifts them and kisses the knuckles of both his hands.  
“If you want to,” Crowley mumbles.  
“Of course I want that, my love.” Aziraphale leans forward and kisses him with all the love he feels for him.  
“Good. And now I would really like to know why you left without leaving me a note.”  
“I got hungry,” Aziraphale admits, his cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink, “I wanted to get us some nibbles.”

Crowley starts to laugh. “Oh angel… I should have known… Of course you got hungry. Well… maybe not that bad an idea. Go get what you bought. I’ll make us some tea.”


	8. A visit to the countryside

“How did you do that?” asks Aziraphale. They are sitting at the kitchen table. Both have already eaten and had two cups of tea. Now they are looking at the sword Aziraphale has just placed on the kitchen table. He had brought it up together with the bag of food. The angel is still trying to understand what has happened with Crowley and the sword. 

Crowley shakes his head. “I don’t know. Honestly, I have no clue.”  
“It could have killed you.”  
“It didn’t.”  
Aziraphale looks at him. Crowley obviously doesn’t want to talk about it. Instead he asks: “What do we do with it now?”

They both look at the sword. It’s not very impressive in it’s current state, to be honest. But Crowley has seen it in it’s holy glory, and has felt much more of it than he ever intended to and ever wants to again.  
“I have no idea…” sighs Aziraphale.  
“We can’t keep it in the bookshop, can we?”  
“What about your safe?”  
“Nah… not safe enough. I mean… I could work up some spells. But I’m not sure how efficient they would be against some archangels or Lilith. Can’t you?”  
“Can’t I what? Work up some spells? I’m an angel, not a wizard.” Aziraphale wrinkles his nose.  
“Fine. But what do we do then?”  
Aziraphale thinks about that for a minute. Then his face brightens, and he smiles. “I may not be a wizard, my dear. But we both know a witch!”

The next day. It’s the usual: Crowley drives the Bentley, and Aziraphale tries not to panic. Once they have left the city of London it’s getting better. At some point during their ride Crowley drives a little slower. Finally they arrive at the small cottage Anathema Device and Newton Pulsifer still share. Crowley parks and stops the engine. He looks at Aziraphale.  
“Are you sure this is a good idea?”  
“Do you have a better one?”  
“No. But… I mean, come on! They are not much more than kids, angel!” Crowley gestures towards the cottage. The door opens the same moment, and Anathema steps out of the door. She seemed to have waited for them and must have heard the Bentley. She lifts her arm to greet them, mistaking Crowley’s gesture for a wave in her direction.  
“Too late already. We talked about it, she agreed. Hop, let’s say hello.”  
Crowley looks affronted at the cheerful command, but gets out of the car anyway. Aziraphale grabs a bag from the backseat of the Bentley. They get out of the car, and without thinking Aziraphale reaches for Crowely’s hand. The demon doesn’t hesitate for a second and intertwines their fingers. It’s only when they approach Anathema, they realize how much they gave themselves away. 

Anathema smiles at them. “Some new developments, I see. Hello you two. Come in, I made tea.” She pulls Aziraphale into a hug, pats Crowley on the shoulder and leads them into the kitchen.  
Newton Pulsifer is standing at the worktop, arranging slices of cake on a platter. He turns around when he hears them, and his gaze, too, immediately lands on the interlaced fingers of an angel and a demon. He grins.  
“I knew it!” he announces, then comes over to greet them. 

45 minutes later they sit around the kitchen table. Aziraphale und Crowley have told everything about the visits of heaven and hell. The first pot of tea is empty, and Aziraphale has eaten 2 and a half slices of a delicious lemon drizzle cake. Crowley is still playing with the crumbs on his plate. Anathema has just opened the bag and looks at the sword now.  
“Agnes never mentioned anything about it.”  
“We can’t know that, Ana. We burnt the second book of prophecies,” Newt reminds her.  
“True… And you really want us to take care of it? How can you be sure they won’t find it here?”

“To be honest…” Aziraphale starts to fiddle with his napkin. “I can’t be sure. It’s just… it’s a feeling. It will be safe with you. I can trust you. You and your family kept Agnes’s book safe for centuries. I trust you can do the same with the sword.”  
Newt sighs. “It’s a weapon. I am not sure if I want a weapon like this in our home.”  
“Knowledge is a weapon, too. Maybe far more powerful. Anathema’s family took care of Agnes’s book which is in it’s own way a weapon, too, and never let it fall into the wrong hands. It’s not the thing itself that is the threat. It’s all in how we use it,” Aziraphale explains.

Crowley reaches for Aziraphale’s hand that’s lying on the table. Aziraphale smiles lovingly at him. They share a long look, until they both remember, where they are.  
“Sorry… didn’t want to distract you all…” Crowley grumbles, blushing. When he tries to retreat his hand, Aziraphale is quicker and grabs Crowley’s hand tightly.  
“You didn’t. I’m glad you’re here with me.” He turns back to Anathema and Newton. “This sword nearly killed Crowley. I don’t want it to kill anyone ever again. Obviously it’s not safe where it was. Please. I don’t know where else to turn.” Aziraphale looks at Anathema and Newt, gently squeezing Crowley’s hand. 

“Alright. I’ll keep it. It’s only a small thing, easy to hide,” Anathema then announces, sounding actually unworried. Relief floods Aziraphale.  
“Oh my dear, thank you. Thank you so much. I know it will be in the best hands. Do you know any particularly powerful spells?”  
“Who - me? Oh, no. I’ll just bury it in the garden. Plant some violas above.”

Aziraphale doesn’t know if she is joking, looks at Crowley and then back to Anathema. She shrugs and gets up. “More tea?”

After leaving Anathema and Newt, Aziraphale and Crowley go visit Adam and the Them in Hogback Wood. Dog, the hellhound that he is, really likes Crowley, and it’s mutual. Aziraphale watches from a distance, how Crowley plays fetch with Dog. He sits among the children and shares a bag of sweets with them.  
“How’s school?” he asks, which earns him a groan from all four of them.  
“Boring,” says Brian, and Adam adds: “Especially after a nearly Armageddon. Have you heard anything from… you know.”  
Aziraphale tries not to give himself away. He doesn’t want to scare the children. Although… they had been so brave and tough, nothing should scare them anymore after meeting Satan himself. 

“They… erm… they got into touch, but everything’s fine. We just wanted to see Anathema. She says she wants to stay in Tadfield. With Newt.”  
“Yeah. They are a thing now”, says Wensleydale. The Them have discussed this developing relationship at length. They all like Anathema. She is a witch (Occultist! she would always correct the children), which is cool. And Newt is exceptionally good a baking. He’s not so good with computers. Even mobiles are tricky. Wensleydale can’t remember how many times Newt has asked him to fix his mobile for him which he has accidentally frozen or otherwise destroyed. But his muffins are good.

“Do you think they will marry?” asks Pepper. She already knows she will never want to marry. She wants to become a scientist and find the cure for cancer. Or something like that. No time for a husband or children. 

While Aziraphale still ponders his answer, Adam asks: “Are you two married, by the way?” and sends Aziraphale into a state of disbelief and shock.  
“Are we what?! No, we’re not. Of course not. What makes you think that? We’re friends!” What is he supposed to say to such a question? If only Crowley were at his side, but the demon is still throwing sticks for Dog.  
Adam chuckles. “Yeah. Sure.”  
“No, we… we are! We’ve know each other for… well, for a very long time.”  
Wensleydale grins. “We can imagine. But you sure don’t look like just friends. Not even friends with benefits.”  
“Friends with… oh my god, boy, you are much too young to know about such things!” Aziraphale exclaims.  
“But seriously, Aziraphale,” Adam says and he looks dead serious now, “If you are not, maybe you should ask him to marry you. If you’ve been together for such a long time anyway…” 

Aziraphale looks at him and can’t believe what he has just heard. He looks at the Them, and they are all smiling. But not in a mischievous way. No. They seem to be very proud of themselves, and for a moment Aziraphale has the feeling he has been played. But then he shakes his head and pushes the thought away. 

But then he looks at Crowley who has just turned to look his way, and sees this half smile the demon flashes at him. This smile that always warms Aziraphale’s heart. That reminds him why he loves this demon so much.  
“Do you have another of the red ones?” asks Brian and reaches for the bag of sweets. Aziraphale hands it to him. He only listens to the children’s bickering with half his attention, while he watches Crowley.  
“You can’t have all the red ones,” protests Pepper.  
“But the red ones are the best. They taste like cherry.”  
“I always thought they taste like strawberry?”  
“I once gave one of these green ones to a sheep.”  
“You can’t give sweets to a sheep!”  
“Why not? It tasted like apple!”

After Dog gets tired of playing fetch, Crowley joins Aziraphale and the children. He tells some anecdotes from various times (disguising most of them as stories he read in books), and the tension he and Aziraphale had felt on their way to Tadfield eases away. The Them are in fact good company. Crowley has always liked children. And he has a feeling that especially Pepper will have a bright future ahead of her. He should keep an eye on her. 

When they finally part, leaving the children in Hogback Wood, Aziraphale is unusually quiet beside him and stays mostly silent on their way back to London. There are many things on his mind he still tries to process. 

“What’s the matter, angel?”, Crowley asks. He drives at a reasonable speed for once.  
“Do you think I made a mistake?”  
“To leave the sword with Anathema? But you were so sure when you told me about your idea.”  
“It sounded good. But… She said, she would bury it in the garden. That can’t be right, Crowley! Everybody can find it there!”  
“Only if one is searching for it.”  
Aziraphale wrings his hands in his lap. “Do you think we should -”  
“What? Go back and get the sword back? And then what?”  
“I don’t know. She was joking, right?”  
Crowley shrugs. “How would I know?”

They stay silent for a few more miles until Crowley pulls over and stops the car. He turns towards Aziraphale.  
“Listen. If you really want to go back, just say the word and I’ll turn around. No problem.”  
“Maybe I’m overreacting.”  
“Yeah. I think you are.”  
Aziraphale sighs. He had been so sure about his idea. And now? Maybe it’s normal to have doubts. Nevertheless he feels somewhat lost. And not only about the sword. Adams question about their relationship also bothers him. He looks at Crowley. It’s a well known sight, Crowley in his dark clothes and with his sunglasses, although he wishes Crowley would take them off now. He has looked him the eyes without the guiding shades so much during the last two days. 

Crowley smiles at him. “Hey, don’t make me worry about you. What’s going on in that head of yours?” He reaches over to him and brushes his cheek with the backs of his fingers. Aziraphale takes his hand and presses a gentle kiss into his palm. A shiver runs down Crowley’s spine. Is such a chaste kiss meant to arouse him? Because it does. Oh, he is so doomed… Aziraphale bends over now for another kiss, this time on his lips.  
“I’m fine. Maybe still a little shaken from the last two days. I will adjust to it.” They are still close, bend towards each other. Aziraphale is able to see Crowley’s eyes behind his sunglasses, and that makes him smile.  
“Good,” murmurs Crowley against Aziraphale’s lips, stealing another kiss. And another. And then some more. He tries to move closer, but it’s not that easy like this, the gear change getting in the way and poking him in the thigh. Car sex seems to have a certain appeal, but Crowley’s very sure Aziraphale wouldn’t want something like that. Besides… he doesn’t want the Bentley to witness such intimacy between them. So with a deep sigh he finally retreats, adjusts his trousers (as does Aziraphale) and they grin at each other.

“Hope I could distract you a bit,” Crowley grins. Aziraphale’s cheeks are a lovely shade of pink, when he nods. “One could say you did.”  
Crowley drives off into the road again. “Listen, angel… I have to take a look at my plants. Do you want to come with me?”  
This time Aziraphale doesn’t hesitate.  
“Very much so.” He hasn’t been to Crowley’s flat since the switch. Maybe this time he can appreciate it a little more.  
“Well, then let’s go back to London. Too much country air is not good for me.”

“Feel free to do whatever you like. This will take a moment,” Crowley says. He grabs a green plant mister and a watering can and leaves for another room. The bathroom or kitchen supposedly to get water. So Aziraphale doesn’t hesitate long until he starts wandering through Crowley’s spacious flat. Crowley’s flat is so different from his own, Aziraphale muses. It’s a little too spacious and has much too little furniture for his liking. The decorations are sparse. There is a statue of two angels (are these really angels? Aziraphale isn’t sure. It looks like they’re fighting…) and a statue of a bird Aziraphale remembers was in the church during the Blitz. The church that was hit by a bomb. And in which remains Aziraphale had realized for the first time that Crowley was more than just a friend to him. Aziraphale smiles at the memory. 

Then there is Crowley's office with this pompous throne, all red and gold and so very unfitting for this spartan room with only a giant flat screen at one wall and a desk looking out at his balcony and the palace of Westminster. And there is of course this sketch of the Mona Lisa Leonardo da Vinci himself signed for Crowley and that disguises the safe. 

The night they had switched bodies they had done it here in Crowley’s flat, not knowing where else to go. After the switch Crowley had left his flat, leaving Aziraphale all alone. Aziraphale, still shaken from the previous events, horribly insecure in these unknown surroundings, had spent the rest of the night sitting ramrod straight on Crowley’s throne and had watched the sun rise over London. Therefore Aziraphale has not seen much more than Crowley’s office and the hallway with the plants. 

Crowley saunters past with his plant mister and his watering can, while Aziraphale enters the kitchen. The kitchen - no surprise here - is the same color as the rest of the flat. But Aziraphale is surprised when he opens some drawers and some cupboards and finds everything one needs for cooking. Does Crowley cook? He has to ask him. He surely drinks coffee, because there is a really expensive coffee machine standing on the worktop and a used mug in the kitchen sink. He smiles and hopes that Crowley will make him some coffee in the near future. 

Meanwhile Crowley is taking care of his plants. Aziraphale hears him muttering and cursing and threatening the poor things. Crowley doesn’t even look at him, when Aziraphale goes past him and into the bathroom. Dark colors here, too. The tiles are shining, everything is absolutely flawless. Even the many towels are black and fluffy to his touch. Aziraphale is curious, when he opens the big bathroom cabinet. And just like he has expected, it is filled to the brim with dozens of hair products and cosmetics. There is also a vast assortment of nail polish and everything you need for a perfect make up from foundation and mascara to lipstick and eye shadow. 

Aziraphale is intrigued. When does Crowley wear all this stuff? Sure, he has seen Crowley present as a woman on many different occasions, but never with so much make up. He has to ask him about it. Maybe he wants to show him some time. 

The last room is of course Crowley’s bedroom. At least this room looks a little more like someone would actually live here. The king size bed is dominating the room. The pillows and duvet look particularly soft, the bedclothes are of course black and look soft and shiny. Crowley’s wardrobe fills a whole wall, and there is a chest of drawers and a shoe cabinet opposite. But what’s surprising Aziraphale is a bookshelf. Curious as he is, he studies the backs of the books. 

He had always thought the demon didn’t like to read. At least that’s what he had always said. But yet these are not novels or poetry. These are science books. Astronomy mostly, some very expensive looking coffee table books among them, some old, original texts: Kepler, Kopernikus, Galilei, Newton. But also Hawking, Einstein and Sagan. Aziraphale is impressed. He takes one of the coffee table books and in the absence of other furniture he sits down on the bed. He opens the book and leafs through it. 

He is so fascinated that he doesn’t notice Crowley. He is finished with his plants and leans against the doorframe, smiling. He has taken off his glasses like he usually does at home. Seeing Aziraphale here is something he still can’t believe.  
“Interesting reading material?” Crowley finally asks.  
Aziraphale looks up. “You never told me you were interested in the stars.”  
“Well, I helped to make them,” Crowley shrugs.  
“You?” Aziraphale’s eyes widen.  
“Before my fall.”  
“You never told me!”  
“I bet I did. Anyway, it was not me alone,” Crowley tries to shrug it off.  
“You have to tell me everything! Can you show me the ones you made? Please, darling!”  
“If you insist… but we’ll have to wait for clear skies. And we’ll have to leave the city. Far too much light in London.”  
“Oh yes! That would be lovely! Did you also make… Alpha Centauri?”

Crowley is moved by Aziraphale’s interest and enthusiasm about this subject. But he has to shake his head. “No. I’ll show you the ones I made. But for now…” He pushes himself from the doorframe and slowly makes his way towards his bed. He’s already shrugging off his jacket.  
“For now I would be more than happy to just see the stars in your eyes,” he smiles. When he stands directly in front of Aziraphale, he takes the book from his hands and puts it away on his bedside table. Aziraphale is looking up at him. He licks his lips, and the flash of a pink tongue makes Crowley swallow. He gently cards his fingers through Aziraphale’s blond curls, and the angel shivers at the touch. He closes his eyes and leans in, sighing.


	9. Worship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have decided to add another chapter of gentle lovemaking. I hope you don't mind... :-)

Crowley could never say how much he enjoys even such a simple touch. Just being allowed to touch Aziraphale at all is more than he would have ever hoped for. He cherishes every moment and could spend hours just caressing Aziraphale.   
“You are so beautiful, angel…” Crowley whispers. This makes Aziraphale open his eyes again, and a faint blush tints his cheeks.   
“You flatterer. I know I’m not, but I appreciate you saying it.”  
“But I mean it. You are the most pure and beautiful thing I know. And I am just a wily old serpent. I consider myself lucky that you of all beings let me even be close to you.”  
“Oh, Crowley, darling, stop this.” The blush deepens, and Aziraphale’s gaze flickers away.   
“No, angel. No. I am not just trying to flatter you.” Crowley kneels down now, and Aziraphale automatically spreads his legs, so Crowley can slot his lean body in between them. Crowley’s hands cup his cheeks. By doing so he forces Aziraphale to look him in the eyes. 

“I know how ridiculous this is. I should’t touch you. Shouldn’t taint you. Shouldn’t even be near you like this. I am not worthy. Not anymore. But it feels so good, I feel… forgiven. At least a little. For what I am. Everything I have done. And -”  
Aziraphale stops him by placing a warm hand on Crowley’s chest.   
“Crowley, please, nothing more of that! I know what you are. You are a demon, sure. You did, what you had to do. But all the trouble you caused here on earth… it was never something terrible. You never killed someone. You never started a war. You… just like I said at the Ritz. You are a good person. And I am with you because I want to.”

Crowley blinks. Twice. He rarely blinks, it’s a sign of a great amount of emotion. And Aziraphale knows that. He leans forward and kisses him as sweetly as he can. Tries to show him how much he means to him. Their breaths mingle, their tongues touch. Crowley nips at Aziraphale’s full lips, sucks on the bottom one, and Aziraphale’s breath catches. He grabs Crowley’s shirt and pulls him close, toeing off his shoes while he does, and pulls him onto the bed while he shuffles into the middle. They would melt into one another if this was possible. But it isn’t, and so they have to try to be as close as possible. Crowley gently pushes Aziraphale on his back. He straddles his hips, and looks down at him. 

The blush is still visible on Aziraphale’s cheeks. And Crowley feels the urge to help Aziraphale get rid of all his doubts about his appearance. He will at least try. He bends down and starts to plant gentle kisses all over Aziraphale’s face: his forehead, his eyebrows, his temples, his closed eyelids, his nose, his cheeks, his lips, his chin, down his throat and neck, while he slowly and carefully loosens the bowtie and opens the buttons of Aziraphale’s waistcoat and shirt. When he gently pushes the fabric aside he reveals Aziraphale’s naked chest. No vest today to hide even more of the body he seems to be so insecure with sometimes. Crowley is grateful that he can admire him with eyes and hands and lips. 

Aziraphale is all soft and warm. He is just the right amount of chubby. Only a little body fat covering his muscles. Crowley touches his fingertips to Aziraphale’s creamy white skin. He runs them through his chest hair, only sparse and golden blond. Just perfect for him. Aziraphale is looking at him with his blue eyes, transfixed on the admiration he sees there. Crowley doesn’t want this to be awkward or humiliating for Aziraphale. He wants him to feel good. To realize that he is in fact beautiful. 

“Look at you, angel… If only I could make you see yourself like I see you…” Crowley whispers. His hands still caress the angel’s chest. “You are perfect. These pecs are perfect.” He runs his hands over Aziraphale pectorals, admires that they feel firm, yet soft beneath his hands. He brushes his nipples with his thumbs, just a little, and feels them harden and pebble. He bends down and kisses Aziraphale’s chest, gently, lovingly. Oh, he shouldn’t be like that. He is a demon, after all, but to hell with that. He doesn’t give a damn about appropriate demonic behaviour. He enjoys this with Aziraphale too much. 

“I love how you feel under my hands. This belly is wonderful.” His lips glide lower. He places loving kisses around Aziraphale’s navel and smiles, when Aziraphale shudders and gasps. He dips the tips of his forked tongue into the navel, which makes Aziraphale squirm.   
“Stop that! Tickles!”, giggles the angel. Crowley smiles to himself. He likes the sound of Aziraphale giggling. Crowley’s lips move on to Aziraphale’s left side, trying to find all the sensitive spots that elicit these delightful sounds from him. He pushes the fabric of his shirt out of the way to be able to nuzzle his nose into Aziraphale’s armpit. His angel scent is strong here, mixed with a hint of deodorant he doesn’t even need. Crowley sighs. He tries to free Aziraphale’s arm and strip off the dress shirt, but Aziraphale has to sit up to help him get rid of waistcoat and shirt. 

When he sinks back down onto his back, Crowley turns his attention to Aziraphale’s arms. They are strong. He has seen Aziraphale lift things and flex his muscles before, and he kisses along the sensitive inside of Aziraphale’s left pale upper arm and further down to his wrist. Sometimes, when he is working in the book shop, sorting and re-arranging his books, he takes off his coat and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. Crowley remembers how he had tried not to stare at his bared forearms. What is so erotic about bared forearms? But he knows the mechanics of things like this. There had been times not so long ago when even a bared woman’s ankle had been an indecency. This is much the same. 

Crowley pays extra attention to Aziraphale’s wrist and then his hand. Always so soft, these hands, so well manicured.   
“Your hands are a work of art, angel…” Crowley murmurs into Aziraphale’s skin, then kisses Aziraphale’s palm, each phalanx of every finger, his knuckles, the back of his hand. There is a scattering of light hair, and it feels so good to follow this with his lips and back up to Azirapahle’s shoulder.   
“There is so much strength beneath this soft flesh. So much power hidden beneath all this cream and gold…” Crowley trails his kisses back over Aziraphale’s chest, brushing his lips over his nipples to make the angel hiss out his pleasure. Then he moves further down, making sure to kiss as much of his warm skin as he can. 

“This little extra weight around your middle… don’t let anyone tell you it’s ugly or disgusting. Because it’s not. It tells me so much about you. How much you enjoy this earth without being greedy. How much you treasure what you’re given. You are so lovely…” He looks up for a moment and is met with Aziraphale’s gaze. The angel looks at him, flushed, smiling. Crowley smiles back and then opens the belt buckle and Aziraphale’s trousers. Aziraphale doesn’t hesitate. He lifts his hips and lets Crowley pull down his trousers and his underwear with it. Crowley grabs the socks on the way, too and lets everything fall down on the floor next to the bed. When he returns to his task, he kisses his way further down and follows the trail of golden hair down to Aziraphale’s groin. 

The demon nuzzles into the dark golden pubic hair and feels Aziraphale’s hard cock bump against his chin in anticipation. But he wants this to last a little longer. He wants to kiss and caress and worship every inch he can reach. At least of Aziraphale’s front. He will take care of his backside another time. 

Crowley kisses the crease where Aziraphale’s thigh meets his body. He loves his thighs that are just the right amount of a little too thick. They are strong, they are soft and they are beautiful. Crowley runs his palm over Aziraphale’s right thigh and shifts a little. His lips touch the sensitive inside of Aziraphale’s thigh. The angel moans softly.   
“So strong. So beautiful. So soft but sturdy. Michelangelo should have carved you out of marble instead of David…” His lips travel on, kiss the hollow of his knee and further down. Everything about Aziraphale is gorgeous in Crowley’s eyes. Even his ankles and feet are amazing. Crowley doesn’t want to tickle, so his lips press a little firmer against the arch of Aziraphale’s foot. He follows the soft sole of his foot to his toes and kisses each and every one, then back up over the instep of his foot and up his shin. 

Finally he has made his way all the way back up to Aziraphale’s groin. With gentle hands he urges him to spread his legs a little further. He looks, before he touches.   
“Even your cock is perfect. Just the right girth to fit perfectly into my palm.” He gently grabs the pulsing member and just holds it. It is perfect. The warmth, the length, the girth, the weight in his hand. The foreskin is completely retracted, the head is moist with precome. Crowley bends down to kiss just the tip of it, his tongue sneaks out to taste. Salty and bitter and musky explode on his tongue, and Crowley moans. He feels his own cock jump in his trousers. He immediately knows he wants much more of this. But not today. Today everything is about love and worship and slow and gentle. There is plenty of time for lust and desire later on. 

Aziraphale moans shamelessly when Crowley’s tongue touches the sensitive skin of his glans. He would love to have more of this. But he knows what Crowley is trying to achieve here. So he doesn’t say anything about it and tries to just feel what Crowley is telling him with his words, his hands, his lips and tongue. Crowley’s lips plant butterfly kisses on every inch of skin of his throbbing cock down to his balls. Crowley breathes over the hidden treasure, before he puts his lips onto the wrinkled skin and pays the same attention to Aziraphale’s balls. He hums at the heady scent of arousal and so much _angel_, and the vibration seems to do things to Aziraphale. Crowley stores the thought away for another time. His fingertips caress the insides of Aziraphale’s thighs. 

“Crowley! Oh god, I can’t take much more of this! You are so good to me! I see your point! Now please… do something!” Aziraphale’s voice is a little hoarse. Crowley smiles against the scrotum he is still peppering with kisses. A snap of his fingers gets him naked, and he sighs in relief, when his own hard cock springs free. 

“I only want you to feel good. I want you to know that you are the most amazing, the most lovable and the most beautiful.”  
“I understand. I totally do. And I love you even more for this. But please, darling, please, have mercy on me!”  
Aziraphale tries to reach for Crowley’s hands, wants him close. Crowley understands. He once again straddles Aziraphale’s hips and bends down for a deep, loving kiss. Aziraphale’s hands caress Crowley’s arms and chest, and he tries to press his groin up into Crowley’s. Crowley smiles and lets his right hand travel down until he reaches Aziraphale’s cock. 

“Yes… please, darling…” begs Aziraphale. Crowley sits up. He shifts his hips to align their erections and closes his hand around both of them. He gasps at the touch of velvety skin on velvety skin.   
“Angel…” he breathes. The sight is mesmerizing. He moves his hand in a slow, steady rhythm. A minor miracle makes the movement slick and even more pleasurable.   
“Take what you need. Move your hips, angel. Yes… show me what you like. Oh Satan, oh god - somebody…”

Aziraphale has to take a look, too. It already feels amazing. But he wants to see what it looks like. He pushes himself up, supporting himself on his elbows and looks down. And what a sight this is! Crowley is beautiful. His skin is flushed, his flanks adorned with scales, his eyes all golden. His big hand with his long, delicate fingers is wrapped around their cocks. With every small thrust of Aziraphale’s hips Crowley moans softly. 

“Crowley… Crowley, you look so beautiful like this…” Aziraphale sighs. He reaches out for Crowley’s left hand. The demon immediately takes it, smiles at him so happily that Aziraphale feels like his heart could burst out of pure adoration and love for him.   
“Oh angel… are you close? Please tell me you’re close…” Crowley begs.   
“I am…”  
“Me too… come for me, angel. Come for me…”

Aziraphale moves his hips a little faster, Crowley tightens his grip a fraction, and then suddenly the demon comes all over Aziraphale’s belly. The feeling of his warm essence painting his skin is Aziraphale’s undoing. He comes with a shout, his whole body shuddering, and adds to the mess on his belly. The movement of his hips becomes erratic, and he squeezes Crowley’s hand so tight he fears he might break a bone. He can’t take his eyes of the demon, who looks totally blissed out. He is trembling, gasping, eyes closed now, but there is a smile on his face that makes pure joy bubble up in Aziraphale. How does he deserve this? 

With a deep sigh and feeling suddenly boneless he loses every body tension. When Crowley lets go of their cocks, he simply collapses onto Aziraphale, and the angel pulls him close and kisses him. They are both out of breath, their brains high on endorphins, their hearts racing. Aziraphale caresses Crowley’s back while they kiss and try to get their breath back. Finally Crowley pushes himself up to be able to look at his angel. Aziraphale runs his fingers through Crowley’s hair. 

“You looked so beautiful during your climax, darling… So beautiful…”  
Now it’s Crowley who seems a little shy. “Don’t say stuff like that. It used to be a joke downstairs. How people look during orgasm. Mostly everybody looks funny when they come.”  
“You looked beautiful. And… thank you, Crowley. For what you did for me. It was -” Aziraphale stops himself in the last second from saying “nice” an instead says: “It was lovely.”  
“You’re welcome. I think. Besides - it’s true. I meant every word I said.”  
“I know.” Aziraphale kisses him some more. A fingersnap miracles their combined semen away and the duvet over their bodies, and Aziraphale rolls them both onto their sides. 

Crowley immediately snuggles close. He tucks his head under Aziraphale’s chin. The angel smiles. He keeps on stroking Crowley’s back and presses a kiss into his hair from time to time. He’s not tired. But spending an hour watching over Crowley’s sleep will be an hour very well spent. It’s not long until Crowley’s breathing evens out, signaling that he in fact did fall asleep in Aziraphale’s arms. Aziraphale smiles and whispers: “Sleep, my darling. I love you.”


	10. The question

Crowley wakes from the smell of coffee permeating the air. He yawns, stretches and pats around the bed for his angel, but he is alone in bed. He sits up. Why did Aziraphale leave him alone in bed - again? For a moment there is a flicker of fear, and Crowley asks louder than necessary: “Angel?” 

He hates the small tremor in his voice and hopes Aziraphale didn’t notice.   
“In the kitchen, darling. Don’t get up, I’ll be back in a minute.”  
“What are you doing?”  
“Coffee.”  
With a groan Crowley sinks back into his pillows, but can’t help but smile. Is this how his life will be from now on? Seems too human at the moment. But why shouldn’t they enjoy this new life they have? They have fought for what they have now. 

Crowley looks up and smiles, when Aziraphale enters the bedroom. He has a tray in his hands, on it two mugs of coffee and a tin of biscuits Crowley faintly remembers buying them weeks ago without ever opening it. The angel is only wearing his dress shirt from yesterday, nothing more, the sleeves rolled up. Crowley appreciates the view, but… 

“Did you touch my coffee machine?” the demon asks alarmed, just now wondering, if Aziraphale knows how to handle his expensive toy in the kitchen.   
“No, don’t worry. I miracled the coffee, but I found no tea. Instead I found the biscuits. Why do you need such a monstrous coffee machine?”  
“I need decent coffee to start my days.”  
“You have a hell of a lot of things in your kitchen I have no clue what to use for.” Aziraphale puts the tray onto the bed and climbs back in.   
“That’s because you don’t cook as good as me.”  
“Well, you have to prove this to me!”  
“And I will. Just give it time. Which one’s mine?”  
“This.”

Aziraphale hands Crowley one of the mugs. Their fingers touch, and they share a smile.   
“Did you sleep well, dearest?” asks Aziraphale.  
Crowley leans forward to kiss him. ”Very good, angel.”  
“Budge over,” Aziraphale grins. They start arranging pillows behind their backs, and Aziraphale places the tray so they can both reach it. 

“This will get crumbs all over my sheets,” grumbles Crowley with a smile, when he reaches for a biscuit.   
“I’ll take care of everything.”  
“You better.” Crowley starts to munch his biscuit, and Aziraphale grins. They have their coffee in companionable silence and Crowley promises to himself that the next time Aziraphale is here, there will be plenty of tea for him to choose from. When they are finished, Crowley puts the tray onto the bedside table and lies down again, his head in Aziraphale’s lap. He closes his eyes again, while Aziraphale starts to card through his hair. They stay like this, Crowley almost purring with contentment. 

"I will never tire of this, angel…” Crowley sighs and feels like he could melt into Aziraphale’s warmth and softness.   
“I hope so. Just like you said: We’re stuck with each other now.”  
“Sounds good to me.”  
They stay silent for a while, until Aziraphale clears his throat. 

“By the way… I have thought about some things while you were sleeping,” Airaphale says now. Crowley looks up at him. “Go on.”  
“About when Lilith and the other threatened us. And you took my sword.”  
Crowley pulls a face. This is not exactly the moment he wants to talk about yesterday’s events. It brings back the most unpleasant memories of the pain and fear he had been in. He isn’t very fond of being remembered about all that.

“And?” is all he manages. Just like yesterday he doesn’t really want to talk about it. But if Aziraphale wants to, he will have to get through with it.   
“The sword is a holy weapon. It should have discorporated you instantly the first time. When Gabriel…” Aziraphale stops himself before he can hurt Crowley even more. He can easily see that the demon doesn’t really want to talk about it.   
“And when you used it yesterday… You shouldn’t have been able to. We both know that. You tried it anyway. And… Well, I think it must have something to do with our body switch. Maybe something from me stayed with you after we switched back. And vice versa. It would make sense. It would also explain, why you were able to light the sword’s flames. It was a little power from above that stayed with you. _My_ power.”

Crowley thinks about this. Yes, it would make sense. The only sense, to be honest. But…  
“But that would mean… If something from you stayed inside me, then something from me could have stayed with you, too.”  
“Absolutely possible.”   
Crowley is not sure if he likes this thought. What, if this “something” is not good for the angel?  
“Do you feel anything? Anything different?”  
“No. Did you, when you took the sword?”  
“It just hurt like hell, that’s what I felt. Apart from that… No. I feel like I always did.”  
“Maybe it’s just temporary.”  
“Hm…”

They both think about it for a moment. Until Aziraphale smiles. “You know what, my dear? I quiet like the idea. Of you and me being connected in such a way. It’s… romantic.”  
Crowley groans. “Oh please… I’m not one for romance.”  
“Of course. I know,” chuckles Aziraphale who knows that his demon has to say such things to keep his dignity. But he can also see that he is moved by the thought.   
“Since we can’t change anything about it, I think we should just… accept it. It’s part of us now.”  
Crowley nods, his head still in Aziraphale’s lap. He hopes the angel starts ruffing his hair again, because he has stopped it during their conversation. Instead the angel takes a deep breath and starts talking again about a new subject. 

“I was thinking about something else, too. About the afternoon. The children talked to me about something…”  
Crowley chuckles. “About what? Sweets?”  
“No, silly. About Anathema and Newton. They know that they are a couple.”  
“Hard to miss. They live together.”  
“Pepper asked me if I thought they would marry.”  
Now Crowley can’t suppress a laughter anymore. “They’ve known each other for only a few months!”  
“Your point is?”  
“My point is, that it takes some more time to decide if marriage is really the right decision to make.”  
“Hopefully not too long. They are young, they should live their life.”  
“Sure. But it takes more to make a marriage work. Not that I speak out of experience…”  
“But don’t you think they are a cute couple? They seem to be so in love.”  
“I don’t deny that. But anyway, it’s their decision to make.”

Aziraphale remains silent for a little while. He’s not sure if this is the right moment. But which moment ist the right one? During Crowley’s nap he has thought about what he wants to do. And is still not sure what to do about it. Lost in thought again, he looks away from Crowley, and the demon nudges him with his elbow.  
“Angel? You alright?”  
“Hm? Oh, yes. Perfectly fine.”  
Crowley now leaves his comfortable living pillow to sling his arms around Aziraphale and snuggle into his chest. 

“You act a little odd right now. Can I do something to make you feel better?” One of his hands starts to play with a button of Aziraphale’s shirt. He wouldn’t say no to a second round of tender love making. But Aziraphale stops him by taking his hand.   
“You could… answer me a question, darling.”  
“Sure, what ever you like to know.”  
“So…” Aziraphale sighs. Why is it this difficult to ask Crowley if he wants to spend the rest of his life with him? They will anyway. But this would mean a special commitment. And therefore he has to ask. And if he doesn’t do it now, he’s not sure if he will work up the courage again in the foreseeable future. So he takes a deep breath and asks.

“Crowley - will you marry me?”  
Crowley’s whole frame becomes instantly hard and solid, each and every muscle seems to lock, and all Aziraphale can hear is a surprised gasp. Oh oh… wrong question? He immediately regrets that he has asked. But there is no taking it back now. Aziraphale waits patiently for about a minute. Then he finally hears Crowley take a deep breath, and he is on his feet in an instant, snapping himself into a pair of pants. In fact Crowley is taking a step back from the bed and oh, that hurts… Until Aziraphale looks up and into the demon’s face. Crowley is looking at him, runs both hands through his hair. He looks honestly shocked. 

“You… are you serious?” he asks disbelievingly.   
Aziraphale sits up now, but doesn’t dare to stand up to approach him. “I am. But… if you don’t want to, I understand. I didn’t want to shock you.”  
“Shock me? Shock me?!” Crowley all but yells now. He sees his angel flinch and sinks back down onto the bed. He reaches for Aziraphale’s hand. Aziraphale lets him and is relieved that Crowley doesn’t flee. Because he very much looks like a spooked deer. 

“Yes, you shocked me. But just because…” Crowley shakes his head now, but he starts to smile. “I didn’t think you would want something like that.”  
“Spend the rest of my life with you? Of course I do, darling. It’s much, much better than the kind of eternity you described eleven years ago. I lost you once. I will not make the same mistake again.”

They both think about the days when they had thought their friendship was over. Shortly before the armageddon-that-didn’t-happen. They both remember the pain it had caused them. A pain they never want to experience ever again. 

“You wanted to go away with me. You asked me more than once,” Aziraphale recalls.   
“I was serious. Apart from that… I didn’t want to be discorporated, obviously. And if I left, well… I wanted you to come with me. I couldn’t leave my only friend of the last 6.000 years behind, could I?”  
“I’m sorry I turned you away. I thought it was for the best.”  
“I know.”  
“But you didn’t answer me.”

Crowley makes one of his typical noises that can mean everything and nothing. His mind is racing. He knows what he wants. He wants Aziraphale. But does the angel really want to marry him? Maybe he is just a little confused by what the children had said to him. Marriage… Crowley does see the benefits for human couples, be them heterosexual or homosexual or every sexuality in between and beyond. But for him and Aziraphale? Where would be the benefit in that? They are supernatural beings. They don’t need insurance in the form of an official paper, a contract that says: now you are responsible for each other and everything you do. They don’t need that. Because the already do. And have done so for six millennia. Although… 

Crowley knows, why Aziraphale is asking him. Proposing to him. They have been a thing from the very beginning. Crowley remembers, when he fell in love with Aziraphale. It was on the wall surrounding the garden. It was when Aziraphale had stretched his wing above his head to shelter him from the rain. It’s a moment Crowley will never forget and cherishes like the most precious gem.

Crowley swallows. Six millennia. More than 6.000 years of love. He would be a fool to say yes to this absurd idea. But he would also be a fool to say no. And he knows he would never say no to Aziraphale, no matter what he asks of him. Because he wants. He wants Aziraphale, he wants him to be happy, he wants to be with him, and he wants to make a commitment. 

“Yes. Yes, of course,” he then simply says and is surprised how easy this was. Aziraphale’s whole face brightens.   
“You do?”  
“Don’t make me think about this, angel. I said yes. I don’t take it back.”   
The smile falters a little. “You… you don’t have to just because I want it. I want you to want it, too.”

Crowley sighs, but smiles. “Don’t be afraid I wouldn’t want to be with you. It’s all I ever wanted. I would have been more than happy to just be best friends. Whatever you wanted. But if I can have it all, if I can have you… Oh angel, I’m a lousy demon for wanting something like that.”  
“I am very glad you are such a lousy demon.” Aziraphale leans forward to kiss Crowley, and they both relax into the kisses. Crowley thinks about this one thing he has spent countless hours musing about. Marriage had never been on his agenda. But he had always wanted to gift Aziraphale with something special. Why not make this gift into something different?

Crowley breaks the kiss and licks his lips. “If we really do this, then… there is something I have thought about for a long time. Some millennia, to be honest.” He runs one hand through the mess of his red hair. A faint blush creeps up into his cheeks. Aziraphale sits perfectly still and waits.   
“I… wanted to give you something. But I didn’t want to rush things. You told me yourself, that I went too fast for you.”

Aziraphales smiles sadly. Oh how he regrets to have said theses words 1967 after he had given Crowley the holy water. He had seen how hurt the demon had been…   
“So I… I would have waited for the right moment. During the last eleven years I thought I had missed my chance at all. So… I think now is the time, before something else doesn’t go as planned.”

Crowley snaps his fingers, and on the open palm of his left hand a ring appears and sparkles in the dim light of the room.  
“Oh…” breathes Aziraphale. His heart begins to race.   
“Would you do me the honors?” asks Crowley. He picks up the ring. Aziraphale let’s Crowley take his hand. It’s shaking. He wishes he could stop it, but it’s a fruitless attempt.   
Crowley is very gentle, when he takes Aziraphale’s hand and slowly slides the ring on Aziraphale’s finger. A little miracle makes it fit perfectly. When it’s all the way down, the angel lifts his hand to admire the ring.   
“Oh god, Crowley - it’s beautiful.”

Crowley breathes out a sigh. It is in fact a special design by his own making. The ring is made out of rose gold. A scale pattern is embossed into the hoop. On top of it sits a pair of wings, beautifully crafted, each feather is clearly visible, the wings spread out along the hoop. Crowley has no idea how long he has thought about the right design for this ring he had always wanted to give to Aziraphale. For centuries he has never thought he would ever need it to become real. He had toyed with this idea for such a long time. Every time they were apart for more than few months. Which happened fairly regularly, to be honest. To finally see it on Aziraphale’s finger means the world to him. It wasn’t meant to be a wedding band. It was only meant to be a gift. But it can serve a greater purpose, too. 

“What about you?”, asks Aziraphale, his blue eyes looking at him with adoration. Crowley is surprised.   
“What about me?”  
“Well, we both need one, don’t we?”  
Just then the penny drops. Aziraphale wants the ring to be their wedding band - and wants Crowley to wear one, too. Crowley swallows. Of course he has never thought about wearing such a ring himself. But… the thought is absolutely tempting. And he can’t resist a temptation. He is demon. Temptation is his second name. So he snaps his fingers again, and a second ring just like the first appears on his palm. 

“May I?” asks Aziraphale. He reaches for the second ring, the counterpart to the one he is already wearing. It’s smaller than his own. Crowley has remarkably delicate fingers. Crowley is mesmerized as he watches Aziraphale slip the ring onto his finger. When the ring sits in place, they both look at Crowley’s hand for a moment, before their eyes meet. Aziraphale smiles.

“This looks splendid on you. How proud it will make me to let everybody see that we belong to each other.”  
“It will?” Crowley asks disbelievingly.  
“Of course. I have the most beautiful, most amazing being by my side. And he wants to be with me forever. Isn’t that enough to make me proud?”  
“Pride is one of the capital sins, angel.” Crowley reminds him with a grin.  
“Oh…” makes Aziraphale, but then shrugs.  
“I seem to be a lousy angel, then.”  
“But I love you all the same,” whispers the demon. 

They share a gentle, loving kiss and then rest their foreheads together for a moment.   
When Aziraphale retreats, he smiles brightly.   
“This calls for a celebration, my dear! I think there is a table for two free at the Ritz. What about a bottle of pink champagne and a nice supper?” he suggests. Crowley smiles, too. How can the prospect of a meal make someone that happy? But he knows his angel and loves him for his enthusiasm.   
“Shall we get dressed then?” he asks and stands up, holding his hand out for Aziraphale to take. 

Only a few minutes later they round the corner where Crowley’s Bentley is parked. They already hear a telling sound. Crowley’s cheeks heaten in embarrassment. He loves his car, sure. But sometimes the Bentley is a little too forward for his liking. Aziraphale looks puzzled, when Crowley hastily unlocks the doors and flings himself in the driver’s seat.   
“You stop that this instant!” he yells and starts to push the buttons on the stereo. But it still blares from the speakers: “Love of my life” from Queen. This car has a really strange humor… 

Aziraphale gets in the passenger’s seat and puts a hand on Crowley’s.   
“It’s fine. I like it. Still bebop, then?”  
Crowley groans. “It’s _Queen_. And Queen is certainly not bebop, angel…” He starts the engine with a snap of his fingers.   
“Will you stop this!” he yells again, and finally the Bentley has mercy on him. The volume turns down, and the music switches to “Don’t stop me now” which is much better. 

“Good for you…” growls Crowley. He presses his foot to the pedal and with a roar the Bentley practically jumps forward.   
“Crowley! We talked about this! You can’t do 90 miles per hour in central London!” protests Aziraphale, already holding onto the door handle.  
“I won’t,” Crowley responds, his gaze on the street.   
“Oh thank God for small mercies…” sighs Aziraphale.   
But then Crowley looks at him and grins. “I’ll do 100.”

“Crowleeey!” is all there is to hear from Aziraphale before the Bentley races away from Westminster towards the Ritz, inside it a very odd, but very happy couple on their way to a scrumptious meal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies! 
> 
> This was supposed to be the last chapter, but I decided to add another one. As a bonus for myself. And for you, too. So enjoy and try to guess what the last chapter will be about... hehe


	11. Bonus - The wedding

“I really don’t like surprises,” mumbles Crowley while he slips on the trousers of his wedding suit.  
“Everybody likes surprises. And you will love mine,” smiles Aziraphale. He is already fully dressed. He is still proud of himself that he has convinced Crowley to buy their suits instead of just wishing them into existence. Because it was so much fun to do this! Aziraphale has enjoyed the whole business immensely, while Crowley pretended to hate it. But in fact he secretly enjoyed it, too. It had still taken them many hours until they were both happy with their look. Of course Crowley had miracled the trousers of his suit as tight as possible. He had also added a red lining instead of the dark one to his jacket and had insisted on a pair of men’s Louboutins because of the red soles. 

At the moment he is still in only his socks and trousers, and Aziraphale gets a little nervous. He had chosen a cream colored three piece suit, a light blue dress shirt, a bowtie in a dark golden shade and dark brown shoes. The modern cut of the suit still feels a little odd, but Aziraphale is confident he will get accustomed to it. And Crowley has told him numerous times how much he likes the new suit on him. If only Crowley would hurry up! The cab will be here soon, and their guests will be waiting for them. 

Crowley looks at him in the mirror and pulls a face. “What? You’re making me nervous, angel. Go and have a cup of cocoa or whatever, but let me get dressed alone!” He doesn’t want to snap, but he can’t help it at the moment. Aziraphale doesn’t seem to notice. He nods.  
“Of course, darling. I’ll be waiting downstairs. Don’t take too long.” Crowley watches him leave and takes a relieved breath, when he is finally alone. He looks at his reflection in the mirror.

“You can do this. You can. It’s what he wants. It’s what you want. Don’t be a coward,” he reprimands himself. But when he shrugs on his black dress shirt his hands are slightly shaking, and he has trouble to do up the buttons. He fiddles with his cufflinks (why the hell has he bought a shirt that needs cufflinks? but he remembers: because of a pair of cufflinks that are in his possession for decades now, in the shape of a coiled up snake. How very fitting!) and curses a bit, just for good measure. He has decided not to wear a tie and leaves the first two buttons open. As much as he likes tight clothes, he hates to be choked by collars. He reaches for the rest of his clothes. His waistcoat is made from black brocade and has a red stitching at the seams. He smoothes the fabric with his hands, before he puts on the jacket.

Finally he is fully dressed and checks his appearance thoroughly. His shoes are shining like a mirror, his hair is perfect, and all that’s missing are his sunglasses. He grabs them from their place on his bedside table. He takes a deep breath. Right. Ready. For everything. Including getting married. To his angel. But he is still excited. He hurries out of the bedroom and finds Aziraphale sitting in the kitchen, where he is patiently waiting for him. When Crowley enters the kitchen, Aziraphale looks at him and smiles so brightly, that Crowley can’t help but smile back.  
“Oh look at my handsome groom. You look fabulous, Crowley. What a lucky man I am…”  
“Thank Go - Sa - everybody we’re not just men. Because in that case we would be dead in only a few decades. And I plan to stay with you for eternity.” Crowley comes over, bends down and kisses Aziraphale on the lips. Aziraphale sighs. “True… So - back to my surprise.”

Aziraphale gets up and pulls a black silk scarf from one of his pockets. Crowley lifts an eyebrow.  
“What does that mean?”  
“Well, I told you nothing about the location, did I? But if it shall still come as a surprise, you’re not supposed to see where we’re going.”  
“Are you serious?!” Crowley exclaims. True, Aziraphale has very early on told him he wanted their wedding location to be a surprise for Crowley. But blindfolding him?  
“My love, please trust me,” Aziraphale begs and makes the puppy eyes Crowley can never resist. And he has tried it in the last months, he really has.  
“This is ridiculous, angel!” protests Crowley, but Aziraphale will have nothing of it.  
“You wear the blindfold, otherwise it would be no surprise.”  
“I hate you. I really hate you…” But nonetheless Crowley allows Aziraphale to put the black scarf over his eyes. 

It feels weird to sit in a driving cab and not be able to do or see anything. Crowley feels a hint of nausea and swallows it away. He loves driving himself and therefore feels uncomfortable when he is not behind the steering wheel - all the more if he can’t see where he is going. The ride takes them about 40 minutes. Crowley just opens his mouth to complain about this whole business, when the cab stops and he hears the cabbie say: “There we are, gentlemen! Have a lovely day!”  
Crowley reaches for the blindfold, but Aziraphale stops him. “Not yet, darling! Be patient, just a few more minutes.”  
“You must be joking! What now?”  
“We have to take a short walk. Just trust me. Please.”

Aziraphale pays, and they leave the cab. Aziraphale takes Crowley’s arm and leads the way. Crowley tries to find out where they are. There is gravel under his feet, and he can smell vegetation. A lot of it. Freshly cut grass, the faint whiff of blooming flowers, the heavy scent of soil. Where are they? It’s only a short walk, until the ground beneath his feet changes from gravel to stone.  
“Nearly there. Here is a step, be careful. I don’t want you to trip.”  
“Very considerate of you…” growls Crowley. But he is in fact curious now. He hears a door being opened, and warm, humid air hits him. Aziraphale leads him on, and Crowley’s heart starts to beat faster. This must be… 

Aziraphale stops, and so does Crowley. “I’ll remove the blindfold now. Do you have your glasses?”  
Crowley nods. He reaches into his pocket for his sunglasses and feels Aziraphales hands on the knot of the blindfold.  
“Ready?”  
“Yes, yes. Just hurry, will you?”  
Aziraphale pulls the blindfold off. Crowley opens his eyes, blinks a few times to clear his look and looks past Aziraphale, who is beaming with joy and pride.  
“Do you like it?” he asks, but all Crowley can do is look around. 

They are standing in a gigantic green house. It’s the Palm House in Kew Gardens. Crowley has read about it, but he has never visited it. It had been built in 1844 - shortly before he took his century long sleep. He is speechless and wishes he had already visited it. Because it is breathtakingly beautiful. 

The sun is shining through the glass into a miniature jungle and makes all the fantastic green even brighter. Crowley turns on his heel, looks up and around, not caring if someone is around to see his eyes. He has to see this without his dark glasses. He has to see and wants to be able to remember it. The air smells of all the plants and the soil. It’s very humid, Crowley can hear water dripping in the distance. 

“What do you think?” Aziraphale asks.  
“It’s like the garden,” Crowley whispers, awestruck. He doesn’t have to say more. Aziraphale knows that Crowley means the garden of Eden.  
“It is. I remember your hair back then. It was long and so beautiful…” Aziraphale lifts his hand to push a strand of Crowley’s hair back in place.  
“You liked it better when it was long?” Crowley’s eyes are on him now.  
“I didn’t say that. I like the way you’re wearing it now. But it was a real sight, when it was long.”  
Crowley grins, and Aziraphale hears the snap of his fingers. He watches in amazement, how Crowley’s red hair grows until it’s shoulder length just like eleven years ago when the whole antichrist drama began. Crowley could have gone for the very accurate long curls he wore the first time they met, but he doesn’t want to overdo it. 

“Oh darling! You didn’t have to!” Aziraphale gasps.  
“You said you liked my hair longer. Too much?”  
Aziraphale looks at him in adoration. “No, it’s perfect. You’re beautiful,” he adds, his voice only a whisper. Crowley can’t help but blush. And it finally occurs to him that he hasn’t thanked the angel for his surprise. He clears his throat.  
“I… erm… angel… this surprise of yours… I quite like it.”  
“You do? Oh thank god. You got me worried for a moment.”  
“Don’t be daft. It’s really special. Thank you.” He reaches for Aziraphale’s hand and gently squeezes it.  
Aziraphale gives Crowley a quick kiss. “We shouldn’t let everybody wait.”  
Crowley’s brows knit. “Who is everybody?”  
“We agreed on this, darling. Don’t you remember? Our marriage registrar and our witnesses?”  
Crowley sighs. He wouldn’t have needed anybody else and would happily have attended a ceremony at the registrar’s office. But Aziraphale had wanted it to be a little more formal and something special, and of course Crowley had finally agreed.  
He puts on his glasses. “I do remember, angel. Shall we, then?”

Aziraphale leads Crowley further into the green house. Crowley is still fascinated and hopes he can sneak away after the ceremony to take a closer look at all these beautiful plants. But first he spots a table and a couple of chairs that are waiting for them - and their guests. Waiting for them are Anathema Device and Newton Pulsifer as well as Sergeant Shadwell and Madame Tracy and of course Mr. Davenport, the registrar. Anathema and Madame Tracy will be their witnesses. 

Crowley puts a smile on his face.  
“Hello everyone,” he greets. Aziraphale is already shaking hands with the registrar. Sergeant Shadwell is giving him a curt nod. He may be retired now, just like Madame Tracy, but he is still a little reluctant towards the demon. Madame Tracy will have nothing of this. She kisses Crowley on both cheeks, and the demon tries his best not to blush. 

“You look… different, Mr. Crowley. Different, but very nice. Suits you,” she says and squeezes his arm.  
“Erm… thanks. I think.” He remembers how Aziraphale had made him promise to be nice, and so he adds: “Thank you for coming. And for doing this. I know how much Aziraphale wanted you to be here today.”  
“It’s my great pleasure, Mr. Crowley.”  
Newton Pulsifer comes over to them.  
“Hello, Crowley. What a surprise.” He points at Crowley’s hair.  
“Oh, well… He likes it, so…” He trails off.  
“As if the children had known…” Newton grins, and Crowley knits his brows.  
“The children?”

Anathema joins them. “Yes, the children gave us something to bring to the ceremony… Hello.”  
“Hi…” Crowley leans forward to receive a kiss from her, too. It feels strange to be this close to humans. He has never had human friends. How his life has changed in the last few months… He still doesn’t know if he likes it or not. Because he knows that much sooner than later he will lose his human friends. They are mortal, after all. Friendship is a mixed blessing.  
“What did the children give you?” Crowley asks curiously - and dreadful at the same time.  
“Newton, darling, would you?” Anathema points towards a little basket next to one of the chairs. Newton goes over to get the basket. He hands it to Anathema. She reaches beneath a cloth draped over the basket and smiles apologetically. Crowley stares.

“Angel!”  
Aziraphale apologizes to Mr. Davenport and turns around to join them.  
“What is it, my dear?” He looks alarmed, when he sees Crowley’s face.  
“Did you know about that?” Crowley asks and points at what Anathema is holding in her hand now. Aziraphale takes a look and shakes his head.  
“I didn’t know, Crowley, dear. Honestly,” Aziraphale says, and he looks very uneasy. 

“It’s a surprise from the children. They made them this morning. I already told them it was maybe a bit too much, but they were so excited,” Anathema apologizes again and offers two flower crowns to them. Crowley stares at them. They are in fact really nice. Aziraphale waits for Crowley’s next reaction.  
“The Them made them?” Crowley is secretly moved by the gesture.  
“This one is for Aziraphale, the other is for you.”  
Anathema holds the flower crowns out to them. Crowley and Aziraphale exchange a look. Crowley is the first to take his one. It’s not that bad and not actually a flower crown, because it’s made only out of green leafs in varying sizes. Crowley examines it for a moment - and then puts it on.  
“Well?” he asks and looks at Aziraphale. 

The angel sighs and reaches for his flower crown. This one has actually some small white and light blue flowers in it. Aziraphale turns it several times.  
“I don’t know…” he finally admits.  
“Don’t be a spoilsport. We’ve worn worse outfits throughout the centuries.” Crowley takes the flower crown from Aziraphale’s hands and gently places it on his blond curls. “There. Wear it with dignity.”

“Gentlemen? If you would be so kind to take your places so we can start?” Mr. Davenport is to be heard now. Oh - right. They are here for a purpose. Everybody takes their seat. 

Crowley and Aziraphale have decided on a very simple ceremony. They weren’t able to reveal much about their life to the registrar anyway, so Mr. Davenport talks for only a few minutes, while Crowley already fidgets on his chair. Aziraphale puts a hand on his his knee to calm him. Crowley grabs his hand and flashes a quick grateful smile at him. 

And then the registrar stands up. “Gentlemen - will you please stand for your declarations.”  
Crowley all but jumps to his feet, Aziraphale follows immediately.  
Mr. Davenport turns to Crowley first.  
“Are you, Anthony J. Crowley, free lawfully to marry Aaron Zachary Fell?”  
It’s weird to hear the first names Aziraphale has chosen for every official eventuality. He can’t very well use only his real name. But Crowley nods.  
“I am.”  
Mr. Davenport smiles at him, then turns to Aziraphale.  
“And are you, Aaron Zachary Fell, free lawfully to marry Anthony J. Crowley?”  
Aziraphale smiles: “I am.”  
“Thank you.” 

The registrar turns back to Crowley and nods at him. Crowley turns to face Aziraphale and takes his hands. “Mr. Crowley, please repeat after me: I, Anthony J. Crowley, take thee, Aaron Zachary Fell, to be my wedded husband.”  
Crowley knows the words already. No big deal to learn them. But he’s nervous, and therefore he really fears he could make a mistake. He takes a deep breath.  
“I, Anthony J. Crowley, take thee, Aaron Zachary Fell, to be my wedded husband.” What a relief! He didn’t make a mistake. He feels Aziraphale’s hands tremble and moves his thumbs over the backs of his hands. The registrar seems to be content, and now it’s Aziraphale’s turn. 

“I, Aaron Zachary Fell, take thee, Anthony J. Crowley, to be my wedded husband.”  
Crowley has never doubted Aziraphale. But now that he has spoken the same words, he feels immensely relieved. It’s truly happening. Only a few words left. He looks into Aziraphale’s eyes and sees so much love there, love and adoration. He knows they are on the same page here. No, they don’t really need to do this. But they want to. They turn to face Mr. Davenport, but keep holding hands. The registrar smiles at them. 

“Anthony J. Crowley and Aaron Zachary Fell, you have both made the declarations prescribed by law and have made a solemn and binding contract in the presence of your witnesses here today. It therefore gives me great pleasure to declare that you are now legally married. Congratulations.”  
Aziraphale and Crowley feel much lighter now. It’s done. They are married. They did it! Big smiles appear on their faces.

They had decided not to exchange rings again. They have been wearing them for months now, and neither of them wants to repeat it in front of everyone. They had talked about kissing after the ceremony. And so they lean both forward now. Their lips touch, and they hear Madame Tracy sniff and Anathema exclaim a pleased sound. They both suppress a chuckle, kiss again and then share a bright smile.  
“Husband…” whispers Aziraphale.  
“Husband,” confirms Crowley. They shake hands with the registrar, sign the papers and then turn towards their guests. Of course Newton and Anathema have their mobile phones in hand and take pictures. They receive the congratulations from all four of their guests, and a member of staff of Kew Gardens comes to them with a tray with glasses of champagne. 

Crowley has actually managed to sneak away to take a walk alone through the Palm House. It’s closed to the public, so he can in fact take off his glasses to admire his surroundings. At one point he sits down on a bench and quietly enjoys the wonderful flora. His right forefinger glides over his ring on his left ring finger. He is a married man / demon now. Whow… What a strange development. Only a year ago he had been sure that life like he knew it would have been ended by now. And now a whole new world has opened up for him. For him and Aziraphale. He just hopes they can stay as happy as they are now. A silent tear escapes his eye, and he quickly wipes it away. He’s a demon. He shouldn’t cry. Phhh… and what a demon he is. A soft fool. In love with an angel and with a world he has rescued only months ago. No wonder heaven and hell don’t approve of anything he did… No wonder they tried to discorporate him. And what would they have done to his angel… 

“Here you are. I was worried you changed your mind about me.” Aziraphale peeks around a corner. His looks a little worried, while he comes closer. Crowley looks up at him and extends a hand.  
“Come, sit with me for a moment.”  
Aziraphale doesn’t hesitate to sit down next to him. “Everything alright?”  
“Fine. It’s just… a little too much. I needed a moment. And wanted to enjoy your surprise.”  
Crowley pulls Aziraphale close and kisses him again. This time without any curious witnesses their kiss very quickly becomes a full on snogging session. They are both a little out of breath, when they finally part lips. 

“Is it what you wanted?” Crowley asks.  
“Much better. And I’m glad you liked my surprise.”  
“We have to repeat it. Come here, I mean. We’re supposed to leave for Tadfield, are we.”  
“I’m afraid so. But we can come back any time and as often as you like. You have to see the waterlily house, too. It’s beautiful.”  
“I would love to see it with you.”  
“Then we will.” Aziraphale lifts a hand and arranges some of the red stands of hair. They are both still wearing the flower crowns. Crowley has already decided to work up a little miracle to keep them in tip top condition for eternity.  
“You look amazing like this,” Aziraphale whispers. He places a very gentle kiss on Crowley’s lips.  
“Then I’m gonna keep the hair long for a while. I’ve always wondered why you never changed anything about your hair.”  
“I simply like it this way.”  
“Me, too.” Crowley pecks him on the lips, then sighs. “We should go back, right?”  
“Yes. The cabs will be here, soon.”  
“Okay then. Off to Tadfield.”

The Them are waiting in the garden of Anathema’s and Newton’s cottage. Dog comes running to greet them. He is barking and jumping and therefore threatening to stain Aziraphale’s light suit with his dirty paws. Newton shoos him away. The children are excited - even more so, when they see Aziraphale and Crowley with the flower crowns. They come running over to greet them. Aziraphale says hello and hugs everyone and thanks them for the flower crowns while Crowley stands a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest and tries to look as cool as possible. 

Pepper is the first to come to him.  
“Congratulations, Mr. Crowley.”  
“I told you: only Crowley. And… thank you, Pepper. But you tell me…” He points to the flower crown he is still wearing. He is looking gloomily at the little girl. “Whose idea in all the nine realms of hell was this?”  
Pepper shrugs. “It was Adam’s. He thought it would be a nice gift.”  
“And who exactly made which one?”  
“I helped Wensleydale to make yours. Adam made the other one with Brian.”  
Crowley can’t suppress his grin anymore. 

“Well, then I think I am lucky you made this for me. Well done, Pepper,” he says, and he really means it.  
Pepper smiles brightly now. “You like it?”  
“I love it.”  
She practically beams with pride now. “Cool! Do you have pictures from the wedding?”  
“Yeah. Go ask Anathema and Newton. They took enough pictures to fill a whole album.”  
He gently squeezes her shoulder and then saunters over to where Aziraphale is already sitting at the table that is laid out for a celebratory tea time in the garden. He bends over him from behind his back and presses a kiss to his cheek. “Happy, angel?”

Aziraphale turns to him. “More than that. It’s a wonderful day, isn’t it?”  
“It’s alright, I suppose.”  
“Oh you wily old serpent…” Aziraphale slaps him playfully on the arm.  
“Oi, don’t hit me. Or I’ll divorce you.”  
“You wouldn’t.”  
“Don’t be too sure about that.”  
Aziraphale smiles and lifts a hand to twist one strand of Crowley’s hair around his finger. “Oh but I am. I love you,” he whispers.  
“Love you, too,” Crowley answers. They rest theirs foreheads together for a moment, until they hear a scream and a deafening crash from inside the cottage. 

“Dog! Oh no, the cupcakes!” Madame Tracy shouts.  
Crowley laughs. “Finally the hell hound acts like the beast he was supposed to be. I’ll go get that.” He rightens himself and saunters over to the cottage. Aziraphale watches him and feels happier than ever in his life. If a demon can be like that, there’s hope for the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and for joining me on this ride. I have never before in my life, not even when I started writing BBC Sherlock fanfiction, written so much in such a short period of time. But Aziraphale and Crowley have stolen my heart from the first time I even watched the trailer. And since then I have watched the series multiple times, read the book, read the script and read a tremendous amount of fanfiction. I love everything about the series and this amazing fandom I found. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed my little story. I enjoyed writing it, because writing is what I love. See you soon.
> 
> UPDATE! 
> 
> (Hope this works...)  
This wonderful art was created for me by the amazing Anotherwellkeptsecret: 
> 
> https://samara-lilly.tumblr.com/post/617740010468343808/look-at-the-wonderful-art-anotherwellkeptsecret
> 
> Thank you so much for this!


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